


The Lightning Strike

by Wildphoenix_ofthe80s



Series: What if this Storm Ends? [7]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), Breeding Program, Celestial children, Celestial war, Child In Danger, Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), F/M, Growing Up, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It Takes a Village to Raise a Child, M/M, Nightmares, Stolen Child, Time Passing, True Form, Walking on water, War, changed true forms, past child loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildphoenix_ofthe80s/pseuds/Wildphoenix_ofthe80s
Summary: Why did God and Lucifer want Lucien and Samehra created, and what has Jennet got to do with all this?
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: What if this Storm Ends? [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1531430
Comments: 54
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Adam Young had had strange dreams before. This was something new though. The noise of demons below, crawling beneath his feet even as dream-Adam jumped up upon a wall to better see his surroundings.

New cries had joined the moans and groans and whispers as he did. It took him a moment to realise these were cries of angels, barred from home. One cry became hurried, insistent, anger, rage, betrayal, plotting, as you would expect from Lucifer in the dawn of hell. The other wavered, but leant voice in support. They were alone, Adam realised - alone and worried and dealing with it in differing ways.

Then there were the two small boys playing just in the shade of the wall. They had a die each, though what game they were playing Adam couldn't fathom.

They weren't crying, screaming, moaning or freaking out. They just were.

"Hello?" Adam called.

"Shh." one little boy whispered, "Worlds about to burn."

*

Lucien, known to the human world as Lucien Starr (After 3 attempts at giving the boy a surname for human purposes, Beelzebub had gone from 'Thizisrediculous' to 'Deadbeat' (after his father) before settling on inspiration from the greatest hits of Edwin Starr) but known to Hell as Lucien, son of Beelzebub and heir to the future, had just woken up.

The sunlight shone through his bedroom window, and he bounced on his bed, "Mornin' sun!" He stretched, reaching for the lampshade before deciding against it, "Lass night... had strangest dream I ever know before!" He moved slowly to the words as he sang happily, "Dreamed tha'all the world agreed to put an'nd to war!"

Beelzebub appeared bleary eyed in the doorway, frowning.

"Dreamed I saw a'mighty room... full with men... an' the papers they was signin' said they'd never fight again..."The boy turned and noticed the demon in the doorway. They grinned widely, "Mornin' Bee!"

"Good morning Hellzzpawn."

"Breakfast!" The boy squealed, bouncing from the bed.

"Wazzh. Drezz. Then breakfazzt."

The boy bounded past Beelzebub to the bathroom with a squeal. The demon watched him go, "I zzwear, if you are drawing powerzz from me to get up early, I will have to give you a commendation for demonic behaviourzzzz."

They made their way to the kitchen to make themselves a coffee while they waited. Human life was, even now, a puzzle to the demon. They went through the motions for the sake of the boy, but many things were still a mystery to them.

As for their feelings on Lucien himself, the Prince was more certain, if conflicted about it. The boy was as easy to decide to protect as a loyal hellhound, perhaps moreso. That was where the conflict came in. Speaking about Lucien, they felt Pride in droves. And something else. Something they swallowed back every time, certain it was unbecoming of the lead demon in Hell.

As Gabriel had once sat in the bathroom, his head in his hands in despair at the lack of word from his God, Beelzebub found themselves craving a word in Lucifer's ear about exactly how appropriate love was in this situation.

And why they had started to feel it again.

*

As the years had ticked by, a few things became apparent. Aziraphale's power loss didn't get better. The children continued growing happily enough (And at a human rate). Ariel was diagnosed by human standards as being Autistic and attended therapy to learn methods of coping and the importance of downtime. Jennet and Lucien became frequent visitors to the cottage, and when the time came for Lucien to attend school, nobody was particularly surprised (despite the improbability given they lived in London) that Beelzebub managed to get the boy into the same one as his angelic friend.

About 8 months prior to this, Anathema had approached Crowley, a little nervously.

"Crowley?"

"Yo book girl, what up?" The demon chuckled at himself.

"I need you to do... something for me."

"Oh?"

"You remember we're adopting, right?"

"Mmhm?" (Following Crowley's comments on Jennet more than likely having a purpose, Anathema had decided not to put the task of following in her footsteps on the little Angel's shoulders too)

"There's this little girl we saw who's aura is amazing - I want to see if she's compatible with us but we're at their mercy as to who we get shown."

Crowley blinked, "You don't even get to pick?"

"No. I guess they think they'd be left with all the undesirable ones." The woman replied.

Crowley wrinkled his nose in disgust, "They're just kids."

"I know. I didn't say I didn't agree with their reasoning to an extent."

Crowley stretched and considered, "Well. It could be awkward to wrangle a miracle without details."

"I was hoping I could bring the two of you along for moral support and try to sort it from there. And Crowley?"

"Mmhm?"

"I just want to meet her. I want to follow the human process after that. I just want to have the chance, to see if she is that one miraculous chid who is already sensitive to the occult and would be happy to build on that."

"Understood." Crowley chuckled, "I'm all for kids going to the right homes and the system isn't set up for that."

It had been a few days later when Crowley, today dressed in her most respectable clothes, stood with Anathema by a hole in the fence, time quietly halted for a moment.

"There." the witch indicated a girl , "Blue T-shirt, dark hair."

"Stuffing a fairy cake in her mouth and trying to climb the monkey bars?"

"Mmhm."

Crowley buttoned up her cardigan so cleavage wasn't on display, and a click of the fingers later they joined Aziraphale and Newt in walking into the office. Crowley snuggled up to Aziraphale in an attempt to look more like an 'acceptable' couple to the staff.

The worker who came out to them was greeted, introduced to 'some of our support network' by Anathema, had a small chat with them, and was happy to hear how well Jennet got on with their kids.

"So, I have 3 to meet today and if you click with any in particular we'll schedule a play session with them and see how you do. I don't foresee any issues given how your daughter is growing up."

Crowley gazed at the person's back, and made a small motion that Aziraphale didn't see, distracted by a writers magazine that seemed to be full of snippets of amateur works.

"If you'd like to come through then?" The staff member was saying to the human couple. Crowley turned to Aziraphale, "If you're finished, they'll be a while, I thought we might go out to lunch?"

Aziraphale almost dropped the magazine, "Where? It's not exactly a good corner of the city."

"I forsee." The demon chuckled, "That some human trying to get their start in little, loving cafes, has set up a sandwich shop with comfortable sofas around the corner."

Aziraphale couldn't stop breaking out into a smile, "Really my dear..."

The shop in particular was clean and the food was definitely loved, and they spent some time there nursing cups of caffeine and a couple of cakes. Eventually they headed back at the appointed time. Anathema and Newt were a little late out though, as was often the case with public services.

The witch looked for Crowley as soon as they finally left the office, squeezing each other's hands, and let go of Newt to hug her. She chortled, "That good eh?"

"Her name is Marie." Anathema replied, "And she is perfect!"

This was how, when Jennet and Lucien started nursery, they started with another friend. Jennet loved her, and Marie, despite having a personality as sassy as it was loving, clicked with her immediately. There was a few months between them in age, but when they were together you wouldn't have been able to tell. Marie had brown eyes and her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, which was often.

Crowley considered this a job very well done.

Aziraphale just rejoiced at the amount of children they often had running wild in the garden, or the way that both Marie and Jennet were growing up with a certain reverence for his books.

"I hope she can cope with losing her sister, when the time comes." The angel said to Crowley one evening, when the two had gone home and their own children were making a racket in the living room.

Crowley gazed at him, understanding but not really knowing what to reply.

"Then again. I suppose she will lose her parents before then..." The angel tailed off, "We'll lose our friends."

Crowley reached to take his hand, "Which is why... why we have to. Make the best of it."

Aziraphale's other hand wrapped around Crowley's, "I know dear." He nodded, running his fingers over his husband's knuckles, "Just... voicing a thought."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm possibly a bit hard on the social care system here, and I know it's not the same up and down the UK. However, when it comes to the south coast, one of my friends down there had an ass of a time, twice, with them. Hence why I've described it as I have. Dont come at me with your pitchforks, folks.


	2. Chapter 2

Beelzebub had learned from studying Aziraphale and Crowley. They had learned the importance of experiences to the enquiring young mind, and devoid of anything to do but reports from below, had grown to quite enjoy taking Lucien to new places (Not that they would admit it publicly)

They were in St. James's park, Beelzebub watching the child hurling handfuls of bird food at the ducks ineffectively, when they became aware of a presence.

"Nonsense. Jogging is good for you. Get rid of that gut you seem to have acquired from your father."

"Sir, I'm tired."

Lucien obviously sensed something, even if he wasn't sure what. He stepped out in front of the tracksuited man, "Feed ducks!"

Gabriel came to an abrupt halt, and somebody crashed into the back of his legs.

"Please?" Lucien beamed. Gabriel's shock twisted into rage suddenly, and Lucien was swept aside as the Prince of Hell pushed his hand away from the threat, "Do not touch him."

"Oh please." Gabriel snapped, "Keep that thing out of the way."

"Your zzzon. Your zzon, Archangel." Beelzebub caught sight of the child behind the angel suddenly. He was panting, and his brown eyes were half closed as he relished the break. The Prince took in his blonde hair, and snapped, "Thizz is-"

Gabriel tried to push by, "Come, Samehra."

Beelzebub pushed back, "Your own zzzon is not worth your attention, but Hazztur's zztolen child is?"

At the pair's knees, Lucien offered Samehra the bag of bird food, "Ducks love pellets."

The boy looked at him wide-eyed, unsure what to say.

"Come on, I'll show you." Lucien grabbed his hand. Samehra shrieked like a creature possessed. The dark haired boy let go, "Why'd you scream?"

The blonde rubbed at his wrist and shrank back behind Gabriel. Lucien pattered around him, "What's wrong? Only want to show you the ducks."

"Can't." Samehra replied, "Busy. Training."

"But your dad-."

"Not m'dad."

"-He's not running now, anyway? Means it's time for a break?"

The blonde child considered, "I... I suppose."

"Come over here, there's loads here-" Lucien pulled the boy again. This time he followed, if tentatively.

"My name's Lucien. Luci. Here, take a grab and just throw it on the water!"

"M'Samehra."

"Sam-Samee-"

"Sam."

"Nice to meet you, friend!"

They had been there a few minutes before there was a snap, "Samehra! Come away before you catch something."

The boy immediately turned on his heel and left. Lucien watched him go, taking in Gabriel's glare as he did.

"Bee?" The boy managed.

"Yezz Luzzien?" Beelzebub was brushing their clothes off from the minor altercation.

"He's rude."

Beelzebub looked at the child with something that might have bordered on sadness. What on earth was becoming of them? They were going soft from being up here - from raising this inquisitive, kind little child -

"Luzzien. I have to tell you zzomething about that rude azz."

*

Once Lucien had been delivered to school the following day, the Prince made their way to the towering edifice that passed for work. The cloud of flies that usually made a loose sphere around them had knotted close together like a personal rain cloud as they rode the escalator to the basement. (They were at least allowed short trips 'home' now that their obedience in raising Lucien was guaranteed)

Most knew to keep out of the Prince’s way when this happened. The first of the underlings not to step out of the way was tasked with filling out the requisition form now pinned to their chest.

The Prince sat themselves on the throne, signed several forms on the table nearby without reading them, and set fire to a small Indonesian island at the request of a 14 year old with a remarkable gift for that sort of thing.

They sat back on the throne and clicked their fingers. Rather than rubber stamp the remaining paperwork, they had created tiny rubber stamps for the familiars, and the files turned black with flies.

That was when they called for Hastur. Were they being liberal, in telling them they had seen the boy? Or were they simply adding to their subordinates torment?

That was for others to decide.

If the frog Lord could hold it together enough, they could help with Lucien’s special delivery.

*

"Good evening Jennet, Marie." Aziraphale smiled as the girls and Newt came to pick up Anathema after a hard afternoon of studying his books for something, "How was young Lucien?" (Anathema had become quite supportive of Beelzebub since meeting Lucien, often picking the boy up alongside her own children and letting him stay at theirs until the Prince appeared to get him when they were running late)

"He got a doggy!" Shrieked Marie.

"Mama, can we have-" Jennet squealed.

"Out of the question young lady, what about when we have to travel around for work?" Anathema replied.

Aziraphale was gazing at Newt's haggard expression though, "Dear boy, what on earth is wrong?"

"That dog..." He managed.

Aziraphale went to get some tea.

After they had gone, Crowley arrived home from taking Alexas out for some new shoes. (he always managed to scuff his beyond repair doing ridiculous nonsense like drop kicking trees or hopping backwards, and given his own penchant for getting bored with styles, Crowley was happy to indulge his son to an extent)

Aziraphale beckoned him into the kitchen. All Alexas heard from the hall was the screech, "Beez got Lucien a fucking hellhound?!"

"Language Crowley!"

Alexas's head popped around the door, a huge grin on the boy's face, "Wow, Dad, you wouldn't even let me have a rabbit!"

Crowley snapped to face his son, aware suddenly of his language in front of a pre-teen.

"Your Dad would just chase it with a top hat." He replied weakly.

Alexas grinned harder, crinkling the corners of his eyes like Aziraphale could. The boy wiggled his shoulders a little, then dropped his new shoes in the hall and headed up the stairs, "Hey gingernuts!"

Aziraphale exhaled, "I do wish he wouldn't call the girls that."

Crowley sat himself down, "He's going to be a terror. He's not even a teenager yet."

"Yes dear. I do believe we bit off more than we could chew with him."

"We're damn Celestial beings - we shouldn't be being run rings around by an 8 year old brat. Even if he does hide his bastard behind your pretty face."

Aziraphale chuckled, and Crowley noted that same eye crinkle, "Don't you do that! You bastard know how susceptible I am to that smile!"

The angel just laughed in reply.

*

"Dog is for me?" Lucien repeated.

"Yezz."

"It's not my birthday."

"No."

"Why then?" The boy glanced at the dog crammed in behind the seats of the little car. Of course as soon as Lucien had taken ownership of it, the mighty hellbeast had turned into a cocker spaniel.

"Apology." Beelzebub managed, not taking their eyes from the road.

"For what?"

"For your father."

The boy grinned incredulously, "Don't believe that."

"Zzon." the Prince replied, "Do you know anyone elze with purple eyezz?"

"No." The boy replied, a moments thought later.

"There izz only you, and Gabriel."

The boy snorted, "Doesn't mean anything."

Beelzebub sighed. Today wasn't the day the boy recognised the truth, either. Oh well. At least Michael would know they'd tried to tell him.


	3. Chapter 3

Time continued to slip away. As the children got older, the husbands felt more able to leave them for short periods, while they took time out for themselves. Crowley hadn't been convinced he'd enjoy a spa weekend, but going as a couple and spoiling themselves to whatever they fancied having, then relaxing in the warm swimming pool afterwards, had been a wonderful time for both of them.  
Hiking up Snowdon had been less fun, but at least there was the little train to take them back.  
Mostly though, they had stayed local. Just gone to a local pub for a meal and a walk, trusting the twins to take care of their errant son for a short time. Alexas was fast becoming the terrible teenager his age suggested he might be. Gregarious, hyperactive, given to flying in the house - both husbands thanked their lucky stars that a lot of the breakables were in the pocket universe under the stairs.  
This particular day, they had driven out to the East of Crawley ("Bloody mockery, that." Crowley had retorted) to Weir Wood reservoir nature reserve. They had intended just to have lunch somewhere and sleep it off in the Bentley with the doors open, but it had turned into such a beautiful day that Aziraphale eventually begged a small walk out of his sleepy husband.  
The reservoir itself was beautiful, with the sailing club out in force and anglers up and down the bank. As they entered a small field, Crowley noted the sign reading no entry, and clicked it away.  
"Dear?" Aziraphale frowned.  
"Nothing to worry about, Angel." Crowley put an arm around his husbands shoulders and began to slowly stride towards the other end of the field, where there were some teenaged boys catching frogs. At length one of them fell in, to raucous laughter from the others.  
"I am glad we don't have many of those living near us." Aziraphale murmured.  
"Not unless Alexas starts a gang, at any rate." Crowley snorted.  
The day was warm, and they didn't go far. Just a little meander, the length of a couple of fields. They sat for a short time in the shade of the trees before heading back towards the car slowly, hand in hand.  
"Can we go to the water's edge?" Aziraphale asked at length.  
"Sure, but not for long, those kids are still about." Crowley replied. They went to the water's edge. It was sandy, silty here, and the angel didn't go too close, aware of the softness of the bank underfoot.  
Suddenly there were shouts from the other side of the trees. Crowley pressed against his husband as the group of boys clambered the fence and fled.  
"What the heck was that about?!" Crowley managed, scratching the back of his neck, "I've not felt so much panic in years."  
Aziraphale paused, tilting his head, listening. Then he stepped away from Crowley, striding purposefully towards the water.  
"Angel?!" Crowley called after him, "Angel!"  
Aziraphale stepped out onto the surface of the reservoir. For a moment Crowley held his breath, but the surface held, the angel striding out towards the part of the bank the boys had been playing on as though possessed. Crowley scrabbled after him on the bank.  
"Shit!" the demon heard, and noticed a man with a fishing line in one hand and his phone in the other, obviously filming. He snaked up and slithered after the man, intending to sink his teeth into his thigh until the angler saw the gigantic snake and ran with a screech.  
Crowley exhaled and returned to humanoid form, immediately running to catch up with his husband. Out on the lake, Aziraphale stopped, reached delicately into the water, and gripped something. Crowley gaped as a hand, a shoulder, a limp torso followed the angel out of the water.  
Aziraphale carried the limp boy to the waterside and laid him down before Crowley managed to squeak, "Angel, Angel you worried the heck out of me!"  
"What?" Aziraphale frowned. Crowley indicated the water. Aziraphale squeaked, "Oh. Oh bother." He dropped into the shallows, making a mess of his shoes.  
"You walked on it." Crowley managed, "You're still in her favour."  
The angel blinked, clambering out, "Dear, I..." He paused, looking down at the boy at his feet, "Shouldn't this child be breathing?"  
Crowley raised his eyebrows, "Well, I suppose he should."  
Aziraphale looked at him, eyes wide and pleading. Crowley rolled his eyes, "What if this were meant to be, Angel?" but he had clicked his fingers without another word. Aziraphale beamed at him, "Thank you dear." He reached to pull the boy further up the shore, onto the grass, "Are you alright, dear boy?"  
The boy spluttered, bringing up reams of muddy water and making bizarre noises. A few moments later, there was a cry from across the field. The boys had returned, bringing adult help.  
"If Alexas does have a gang, I'd hope they're at least as kind hearted as these children." Aziraphale remarked.  
They sat in the car after their eventful walk.  
"Don't ask me to go walking again, Angel." Crowley teased.  
"We saved a life, dear." Aziraphale told him, watching the ambulance lights flashing as the boy got checked out.  
"Yeah, well." The demon patted his hand, "We should move on. What next?"  
"I think we've made room for dessert." The angel replied, "Could we find that little tea room we saw at Wych cross?"  
"The one by the Llama park?!" Crowley managed incredulously.  
"That's the one." The angel beamed. Crowley stared at him, "Are we going to talk about your Jesus routine?"  
"It really was less a routine dear... more necessity."  
"Necessity?!" Crowley repeated.  
"Why yes." Aziraphale replied, "Did you not feel the distress? That boy was drowning, Crowley..."  
"And you just walked out onto the water to get him? No miracle involved?"  
"Did you see me click?" The Angel replied with a huff.  
"No."  
"Because I didn't. I didn't mean to do anything, Crowley. I just heard the distress and I... wanted to help."  
Crowley squeezed his hand, "So intent on loving the innocent you fail to notice you're making a spectacle of yourself. Somebody was filming you for somebody's sake, Angel."  
"Oh."  
"God's an ass. You, my poor Angel, resolutely defending humankind one at a time, just as you were tasked to do when there was only one of them. Without thanks from Her."  
"Oh, well. It's easier when there's just one." Aziraphale managed, "It was easier then... except for the apple debacle."  
Crowley blinked a little too fast at that and changed the subject, "So. Tea room."  
"Thank you, dear." Aziraphale beamed. 

*

The penthouse was humid. The flies climbed of the window behind their master, densely keeping the Prince in shade as they slammed the desk in front of them with barely concealed anger. Hastur snarled in response but still tried to shrink back inside his raincoat.  
"Izz thizz one of yourzz?" Beelzebub demanded, turning their monitor around to show the Duke the photograph of the reservoir.  
"‘I don’t have any idea what that is. Why would I even be out that way? Sandalaphon is still being seen in the city. I was hunting for him."  
"Foolizh, he clearly doezz not wish to be found. And I ordered you not to take on Gabriel alone. There are… complicationzzz."  
The room fell silent save for the irritable buzzing of the familiars. A silence soon shattered by Lucien, wandering from his room to the Kitchen, loudly singing ‘Baby Shark’. Beelzebub groaned and hissed "Not again..."

*

"Have you seen this?" Newt exclaimed as he came in from his walk with the two girls a few days later. They were covered in chocolate, and the pile of papers he had picked up for work was bigger than usual. Anathema blinked at him, "You know I don't read those rags."  
Her partner laid the tabloid down on the table where she could see the front page.  
"Looks like the South East got itself it's own cryptid!" Newt grinned.  
Anathema ran her eyes over the grainy image. It was a large creature, pale flesh and hair, multiple wings and limbs for days.  
"It's hardly Bigfoot, is it Newt?" She replied, "Looks more like a signal distortion of a reflection from the water."  
"Oh." Newt's face fell, "I thought it reminded me of Mr. Fell."  
"Come on Newt, he's an unknowable being but really, how did you look at this and think Aziraphale?"  
"I don't know." He admitted, "I guess it's just all so pale." He paused for a moment, looking at the middle wings which seemed to be reflecting the sun.  
Anathema chuckled, "I'm not telling him." She glanced at the girls, "Oh Newt, it's too warm for chocolate, that's why I said ice cream."  
"They didn't want ice cream." He replied, distracted from his work.  
"Yes, well." Anathema chuckled, "Let them finish and then you can clean them both up."  
"Both?"  
"Yep."  
"But Ana, there'll be sticky fingers everywhere by then-"  
The occultist laughed, "Maybe that will teach you, Newton!" She patted his hand, "I'll help. This time." She kissed his cheek and ushered him forward to pick one of the girls to get cleaned up.


	4. Chapter 4

The twins turned 18 one sunny day in June, their A-levels done and their University chosen (somewhat miraculously they had both managed to pick the same one, within easy reach of Crowley's old flat, which the demon was happy for them to live in)

With Alexas turning 13 the same year, they had planned a garden party between the two birthdays, something they could invite their friends to as well as the adults having a celebration. Alexas proved impossible to cater effectively to though, chopping and changing what friends he wanted to come by the day. It was becoming quite a thing for the boy, and worrying his parents.

One evening he came home from school with a friend, a shy looking boy from his class. This, Aziraphale learned quickly, was Edward, and he was an A-grade student in performing arts (alongside Alexas). They went up to the boy's room, and some time and racket later Crowley had to go up and bang on his door, "What on earth are you two doing?!"

Alexas opened the door, "Acting out the play, duh." And shut it again.

Three nights later he brought a girl home. They stumbled through the door hand in hand, giggling. Aziraphale blinked at the boy, startled by his appearance. The boy sent her up to his room (Had she visited before? Aziraphale didn't recall her but she didn't need telling where to go) while he got a couple of canned drinks from the fridge.

"Hi Dad." He hugged the angel loosely before following the girl. Aziraphale's fingers started twitching nervously. At this point Crowley came in from the garden, "Angel?"

"Crowley, do - that is - do you wonder what Alexas is doing taking all these friends to his room?"

"Plays, he says." Crowley growled, "But I don't trust him either."

"It's not a matter of trust." the angel replied, "I just want him to be safe. And he's only 12! And is he - is he breaking hearts? Is he using his powers the wrong way? That girl he brought in looked positively enamoured with him!"

"Girl?!" Crowley started, "He had a boy up there the other night - Ngk - leave this to me Angel."

"Don't shout at him Dear." Aziraphale called after him.

"ALEXAS!" The demon had yelled before he finished his sentence.

The boy's head appeared over the upper balcony, "What up, Dad?"

"Crowley." Aziraphale had caught up with him, "Please. Kindly."

The music got turned up in the twin's room. Alexas glanced down the landing incredulously, "Huh. Think you upset Ariel."

Crowley reached the top of the stairs, "My room."

Alexas bounded in and sat on the bed, cross legged and smiling.

"Ever paint Dad like one of your French girls?" He giggled.

"Alexas!" Crowley's speech descended into syllables, "You - what on earth-" He paused. Aziraphale appeared behind him, "Listen dear." He held Crowley's shoulders gently and attempted to explain, "We're just a little concerned for you. We're worried you might be getting into... things you're a little young for, is all."

Alexas gave him a lop sided, cheeky smile.

"Given you've always - and I mean always - had a penchant for innuendo and crude jokes, I feel we're both a little concerned you might be - not being too wholesome in your room - and with so many of your schoolmates."

The boy's grin widened and Crowley took over, "Do you have any idea how mortal you are, Alexas Oberon Fell-Crowley? Do you know about the sort of things humans catch from each other doing things like that?"

Alexas began to howl with laughter. Aziraphale twisted his fingers, "Dear... It's really not-"

"No - No Dad it's -" The boy creased up again, "I know all about sex! What humans have, what they do with those bits - but I have no interest in THAT crap!" He wiped tears from his eyes, "I like to see their work!"

"Alexas." Aziraphale was a little cowed, "You're not copying homework, are you?"

Another snort from the boy, "Fanfiction ain't homework, but go off, Dad."

Aziraphale let go of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Then there was a voice behind them, "Erm. I'm sorry. I'm Sophie. I did ask Alex if it was okay if I came over. It's just - he's so good with scenes! He knows just what should happen next to keep it exciting. I didn't mean to get him in any trouble."

Crowley and Aziraphale glanced from the girl to each other. Then the angel smiled, "He's not in any trouble dear girl. We're just concerned - he brings so many friends back and holes up in his room with them - and you hear such stories!"

The girl beamed.

"Now then, Sophie. Will you be wanting any tea while you're here?"

"Angel..." Crowley grumbled.

"It's no trouble at all." The angel said.

"I'm alright thank you." She smiled, "I have to be home by seven, and we eat when my papa gets home."

"Satisfied?" Alexas chuckled.

"Fine. But behave yourself, Puck." Crowley growled, "Be careful you're not leading anybody on!"

Aziraphale took Crowley's hand as the two teenagers left the room, "Well, that went... alright."

"Got an answer for everything. And bloody gregarious as anything."

"He's your son, tempter." The angel chuckled.

"Yeah, well." The demon sulked, "He'd better not have his friends over while the Devices are over. Last thing those girls need teaching is that he's what you look for in a human mate."

"And exactly what is wrong, my dear, with them looking for somebody like our - Angelic looking, may I remind you - son?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lex is a cheeky little monster - but we know where he gets it ;)  
> Just some nice fluffy stuff to tide us over before this fic gets to it's point. And why not? I love the kids <3


	5. Chapter 5

Hastur leant against the cold damp drain pipe, and lit his third cigarette. He made sure the exotic herbal scents it produced trailed after a nun that shuffled quickly past him. Once he had been an expert in temptation. He and Ligur were near unstoppable. Bishops, nuns, even a pope on one occasion.

But recently things had taken an even more primal turn. Now he was a hunter. And his prey across the street, in grey tracksuit and dark hoodie, would never be tempted by anything Hastur could produce. He watched his prey talk to the human at the buildings door. A servant? Ah, much better, this human supervised the building. The jogger was complaining about noise of the water pipes.

Hastur grinned, almost their old self. Here was something he could put his talents to. The supervisor could be tempted to do something perfectly simple about the noise. Make it far worse...

The demon Duke chuckled in barely disguised gleeful malice as Gabriel vanished from view.

The handful of years since Hastur had been left battered and alone in a muddy copse in the English countryside had been strange. Without Beelzebub as a permanent fixture, most of hell's worst doings had been on his command (when word came from the marooned Prince, anyway)

The Prince's return had signalled a return to normality, but that taste of being in charge had given the Duke an edge he felt he'd not had since his partner in mayhem had taken a holy water shower in the traitor Crowley's living room.

He was putting it to good use. After all, what demon didn't dream of driving an actual Archangel to the brink of madness?

Beelzebub had told him not to confront the Angel directly, but that by no means granted him a charmed life. And if privately it made Hastur feel better to take action against him, well, he wasn't going to mention it.

Or the eye that was undoubtedly looking for Sandalphon and the child.

*

The Device girls stayed over the night of the garden party. Their parents were going on a weekend trip away, and Anathema was going to collect some fresh ingredients while they were gone.

Raucous as the party had been, the husbands were still in bed when Aziraphale awoke to the sound of somebody having a wash in the en-suite sink. He glanced at Crowley, and got up to see who was there.

"Sorry." Jennet smiled, where she was washing her face, "Sis is hogging the bathroom."

"No trouble at all dear." Aziraphale told her, fetching the hand soap down from the shelf for her and stepping back out to his bedroom. The girl joined him a moment later, "Uncle 'Zira?"

"Yes dear?"

"I like staying here." She smiled, "It feels comfy. Like I could bring my posters and put them up on the walls."

Aziraphale smiled softly, "Well. It may as well be you two's bedroom, only you ever sleep there."

"Really? But it's a guest bedroom."

"People generally don't want to intrude on the bedroom we had built for the baby we lost, Jennet dear."

"Oh." The girl blinked, a little confusion forming in her eyes, "I'm - sorry."

"Thank you dear. It's alright - you didn't know."

Jennet approached, opening her arms for a hug. Aziraphale chuckled, "Thank you. You're a kind girl."

Peace radiated from the child. He had often felt it when he grabbed her hand before she fell into the flowerbeds, or when he stroked her hair when she was particularly cute. This however was a deep reaching peace that was trying to touch his very soul-

"Jennet."

"Mm?"

"Don't." He murmured, "You've too much promise in life to see what lies in my heart."

"But you're an Angel-"

"I _was_."

The girl's eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, "What- What happened? Are you sad? Can you feel the - the love? Are you alright? What about your soul?"

Crowley stirred at the noise. Aziraphale reached to shush her, "Jennet. I'll tell you someday. For now, enjoy being a child. Enjoy this innocence. Safe from the world." He patted her head gently, "And don't worry about me."

She narrowed her eyes, "Is that why you don't have magic?"

Aziraphale managed a chuckle, "Yes. Yes it is."

The girl looked at him sadly. Then they heard Marie calling her.

"Coming!" She squeaked, and left in a hurry. Aziraphale took a deep breath, "Spark has no use for that room when they are frozen forever in time in my heart, my dear Jennet. But you can't understand that yet. Can't be tainted with this - this whatever it is."

"Angel" Crowley grunted.

"Mm?"

"S'cold. Hold me."

"Of course dearest."

*

Jennet, even moreso than Marie, had shown an affinity for books and knowledge as she grew. The girls were both taught by their mother to the best of her ability, and they were semi frequent visitors to the library of the cottage. They tended to need their mother's watchful eye though, as Jennet in particular was curious, and had a tendency to ask questions of the ineffable beings who lived there, especially as their playmates there had got older and less inclined to play.

That day in particular, after having a particularly wordy argument with Alexas's today-grumpy teenage self, the girl retreated to the library. She found Aziraphale at the desk in the window, idly making notes on something for Crowley while Marie was reading a book in the corner on a beanbag.

The Angel smiled as Jennet pulled a chair up next to him, "Just be a moment, Dear."

The girl waited patiently until he put his pen down and removed his glasses, "What can I do for you today? Researching for your mother? Fairy tales?" He did his shoulder wiggle, a movement the girl had quickly picked up, as well as a little involuntary nose scrunch she often paired with it. Then he was reaching behind her ear, "Oh look, what's this?"

"Stop!" Jennet giggled, "You need more practice, Uncle Zira!"

"Surely not." Aziraphale replied, placing the coin he had between his fingers in her palm, "One for your piggy bank anyway. Oh-" He reached behind her other ear, "And one for your sister."

Jennet tilted her head, "Uncle Zira? Why did you and Uncle Crowley never have another baby?"

Aziraphale's face fell a little, and he frowned, "Where did this come from, Dear? From our conversation this morning?" In his mind he remembered those hundreds of eyes on him, and wondered just how far the little Angels powers went.

"You're going to miss Ri and Li." Jennet replied, "They're going to University soon."

"They'll be back." Aziraphale defended blindly, "And, w-well, t-three was a lot to handle for the two of us, and it just seemed time for a break after losing Spark." he paused. Marie looked up from her book, interested.

"There was a lot happening Dear." The angel continued, "You and Lucien arrived, Adam left Tadfield to make his own way, and Lex was more of a handful than the twins ever were." He smiled a little, "Still is. Did you tell him off for his underhanded insult?"

"I did, Uncle Zira." The girl blushed, "I didn't think you heard."

"Sometimes that boy needs a harsh word or three." Aziraphale replied, smiling.

"How about now though?" Jennet pressed, "You could have another now."

Aziraphale gazed through the window at the garden, perhaps remembering the times he'd watched the twins out there when they were younger.

"It would be... nice." He murmured. Jennet touched his hand, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you sad."

He glanced back to her, "Don't worry about it dear girl. The thought had... crossed my mind a few times since the twins started to organise university. But..." He paused, glancing out the window as Crowley chased Alexas, yelling at the 'scruffy sod' for picking apples off his tree and throwing them at the Bentley, "Maybe we ought to see Lex through his terrible teens first."


	6. Chapter 6

The girls had been read stories and tucked in, Alexas was lying in bed with his headphones in, and the twins were in the living room, planning what they needed to move into the Mayfair flat. So Crowley found himself looking for Aziraphale, after re-checking the Bentley for dents. His husband oddly wasn't in the library, so he climbed the stairs and, eyeing Alexas's bedroom door down the hall, crossed the landing to his own. As he entered Aziraphale jumped noticeably, "Crowley!"   
Crowley blinked, eyes wide behind his glasses, "Good evening, Angel." He sat on the bed, "Are you okay?"  
Aziraphale had been caught out, but evidently didn't quite have it together enough yet to change back into his male presenting form, so eventually he just smiled sweetly and joined him on the bed, "I'm okay." He took Crowley's glasses off so he could stroke his cheek, "I... forgot how these hands feel."   
Crowley reached to hold him at the waist, always enamoured of Aziraphale's hips in female form, but hesitated, "Is there... any occasion for this?"  
Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat. Crowley raised an eyebrow, "Angel, I don't think."  
"N-No. Not yet." Aziraphale replied, taking his hand and guiding it the rest of the way to his waist, "But I. I was talking to Jennet today and she asked, and I think perhaps I realised that... I do miss having the children around."  
"I bloody don't today." Griped Crowley, "I told him never to touch the Bentley."  
"He didn't touch it Dear, he threw an apple at it. Quite appropriate of your son if you ask me, Serpent of Eden."  
Crowley hissed.  
"It's just his terrible teens, Crowley."  
"He's had the terrible teens for nearly 13 years!"   
"Oh Dear, don't exaggerate, we were all young once."  
"We were never young. We just were one day."  
Aziraphale giggled, tried to stem it, and only succeeded in an internal laugh that wiggled his shoulders, and so his bust, in a sexual manner. He beamed as Crowley reached to stroke his cheeks, smiling gently, "I was expecting it to take longer than 9 years, Angel."   
"Yes, well. If we make it a few more years, maybe Lex will be happier in collage."   
"We can only hope." Crowley hissed, then gently reached to kiss his husband. They stayed there for a few moments after breaking it, gazing into each other's eyes.  
"Fuck." Aziraphale breathed eventually. Crowley raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demons waist and rolled them both to the bed, giggling into another kiss.

*

Beelzebub stared sternly at Lucien and his hellhound as they played ‘corral the swarm’ with a brave group of volunteer flies. They didn’t turn when Hastur entered. They could sense the sneer radiating from the frog and wouldn't justify it with a glare.  
"Well?"  
Hastur finished rolling his cigarette and, with a glance at the child, stuck it behind his ear.  
"You don’t want the deeds of the day?" he asked.   
The Prince turned to face him, making no use of their limbs to achieve this.   
"Your deeds amount to driving a landlord mad and exhausting the patience of yet another plumbing contractor.”  
"There was this vicar…" Hastur began, before he remembered just who he was interrupting and fell silent.  
"Where is the archangel?"  
Hastur shrugged, slightly defeated. "Buggered Off din’t he. Moonlight flit. Bastard." The amphibian at his crown lightly patted at his masters temple to keep him calm.  
"In short, you don’t know. Hell has not had eyes on him in too long."  
"You think he’s planning something?"  
"He has only ever had one plan. It is his tactics that concern us now."  
Beelzebub swivelled back to regard Lucien, but continued to address his subordinate.   
"Find the protective curses Crowley and the witch recommended. It is time to increase security."

*

3 more years had passed before it finally all happened.   
It started with a completely random event. In a double bed crammed into a small flat in London, a couple were dozing. At the foot of the bed, an infant dozed in the crib, and a small, timeless Jack Russell terrier twitched in his sleep underneath. The child and it's mother slept peacefully, but it's father twisted unhappily under the covers at the merest hint of a whisper at his ear.   
"Adam..."  
The man's eyes shot open.  
"No..." Adam managed, "I vanquished you..."  
"Pfft." came the reply, "Just checking in on you... and your sinful little life..."  
"You leave Emilie and Eva alone."   
"Eva? How elegant..."   
"Don't touch my daughter!"  
"Adam..?" Emilie managed, roused by the yell.  
"Sorry." He managed.   
"I'll be back in touch." the voice chuckled, "Good work keeping the side up."  
Dog awoke with a snort and began licking his paws, bristling with the hellish energy.

*

To say Adam was concerned and confused was an understatement, but weeks went by without another incident. It was one evening, when Emilie was out with friends and he was bouncing Eva on his knee in front of the television, that it happened.  
To his credit, Adam didn't drop his infant daughter as the world around him descended into noise and flashes of light. Hell fire, holy water, clashes, screams, cries and the horrifying sounds of celestial beings rended and torn apart by magic or by physical force.   
Adam was screaming. Not loud, but one long scream, a fear he thought he had long ago dealt with, of just what being the antichrist meant and just how deep the powers he had sought to ignore might run.   
Eva made a little shriek at his face, and he blinked back frightened tears. Where was - what was -   
"Oh. Eva." He managed, aware of her despite the raging noises that surrounded him. He held her close as he stood and went to get his phone. 

* 

"What ya want, hellspawn?" Crowley answered the phone.  
"Don't even joke about that, Crowley." Adam managed.   
"S'the matter? Eva spit up on her mothers best dress?"  
"No, nothing like... Listen. Crowley... I had this nightmare, daymare, I don't know, about fighting."  
"You... Uh huh?" Crowley squinted as if that would make it all make sense.  
"Only it's happening while I'm awake? Like the videos on an open tab I can't find?" Adam paced, trying to gently lull his daughter to sleep, "Crowley I'm worried that Lucifer is trying to reach out to me again. And I don't want that - never have."   
"Let me get Angel." Crowley replied, "He might know some sigils you can use that you can hide under rugs or behind paintings or something, try and block that stuff out. I can email them over for you."  
"Thank you Crowley." Adam managed, "Do you... Do you think Eva will be safe?"  
Crowley swallowed at the thought, "I'm sure little babies aren't big in Lucifer's plans. Anymore, anyway. But it's another question for Aziraphale, really. Let me get him."

*

Aziraphale had to fetch his books from the attic to help. He had initially pulled a face at Crowley 'needing books on setting religious wards' but when he heard who it was for had told Crowley which box they needed from up there. The box found itself unceremoniously dropped in the middle of the floor, such was Crowley's concern. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but began to unpack it regardless.  
"I can set him up with basic wards, but I may need more time to make more complex ones. Those might require us to visit, as it's best to embed them in the walls." The angel explained as he lifted a thick, ancient book from the middle of the box and flicked through carefully, "Here we go, Crowley, can your phone send that?"  
"I'll do one better." Crowley said, and with a click Adam's printer sprung to life, doing it's best to make a pixel perfect copy of the page as Crowley's phone saw it.   
"That's a basic one, if you put a few of those under or behind things they'll provide base protection." the angel explained, "I suggest under the mattress so young Emilie doesn't find it."  
"Thanks Aziraphale." Adam managed, "How do I..?"  
"Let them print before you activate them." The angel told him, "You don't need them activating when they're only half done - you could wreck some terrible havoc on the universe. Imagine a ward loose over Why Phi!"  
Crowley snorted, "Wi-Fi, Angel. And I should make a note of that. For, y'know. Reasons."   
Ten minutes later, a host of large and small wards were hidden around the house and with a few words, Adam was able to activate them. He took a deep, shaky breath as the noise around him faded away, "That's so much better. I can think now."  
Eva giggled at his relief.   
"I'll keep working on them my dear boy." Aziraphale told him, "You'll have to let us know when we can come around and investigate further."  
"I'll keep you updated." Adam replied, "Thank you, again." he paused, "I should get Eva to bed."   
"Goodnight Eva darling!" The angel called. Crowley snorted, "Goodnight hellspawns."   
After he hung up, he frowned at Aziraphale, "What do you think is going on?"  
"I don't know." The angel replied, picking up his book again, "I think it's very odd that he believes Lucifer may have a hand in this when Lucifer was apparently in agreement with the Lord about the future."  
"Do you think something's going to happen?"  
"Oh, undoubtedly. Whether his father is behind it or not."


	7. Chapter 7

Some hours later and not twenty miles away, Beelzebub frowned. Something wasn't right. They were tired. Tired, and slow, and their sense of the world was askew. They knocked on Lucien's door to wake them as they made their way from bathroom to kitchenette. They noticed the gold-sealed envelope on the breakfast bar immediately, and moved to open it. The letter inside simply said, "Heaven's forces are fragmented, as I'm sure yours are. Be prepared for the order. Gabriel is involved."

The Prince made their tea as they considered this.

"Bee, it's 5am." Lucien complained, almost falling over the dog as he entered the kitchen, "Why'd you wake me? I usually wake you!"

Beelzebub pushed the boy a mug of tea, "Your father hazz just started something big."

The boy looked at the demon incredulously, "But he's an unimaginative ass."

"True. But thizz does not stop him cauzing trouble." The Prince shook their head, "It iz always when the children are 11..." They gazed at the boy, frowning.

"What is it?" Lucien wiped his face, "Did I spit out my gum in bed again?"

"You may be in danger." The prince decided, "You zzhould ztay at home today."

"Neat." Lucien grinned, "Can I go back to bed then?"

*

Anathema pushed two lunchboxes into two backpacks and handed them over as the girls ran for the front door. Newt smiled, "Be back soon."

The witch started to wave them off, then tilted her head, narrowing her eyes.

Jennet's aura was unnaturally bright. She almost physically glowed. Marie had noticed, but wasn't unnerved by it.

_I suppose she's always known she was an angel in a mortal corporation..._ the witch thought, _She always loved to hold her sister's hand or sleep alongside her as they grew up. In contact with that peace._

She managed to finish the wave, and retreated to the cottage to try and find her books on the nature of auras.

*

Crowley awoke to the sound of a pained groan from his husband. He glanced over. The angel was pale, even for his complexion.

"You 'right?" The demon managed. Aziraphale forced his eyes open, "I feel so weak."

Crowley made to sit up and felt momentarily giddy, "Oh Satan, Oh, what is-?"

He pushed himself towards Aziraphale, touching his shoulder. He was very cold, as if every drop of angelic Grace was being used elsewhere.

"Angel I don't understand-"

Aziraphale pushed himself upright under the strength of his limbs alone, "...Maybe some breakfast." He started to get up. Crowley followed him, thinking every step that he would collapse. At one point the angel had to hold the washbasin in the en suite tightly to avoid the demon's nightmare becoming reality.

They made it downstairs, and Crowley set to work as best as he felt able. Since Alexas had won an early scholarship and moved in with his sisters to work on performing arts in London, their little cottage had felt astoundingly empty. He made to click the radio on, but drawing that much energy felt wasteful suddenly, and he pushed the on switch manually instead.

Tea, coffee and toast didn't help. They were both drained, Crowley realised at length, though Aziraphale having next to no power anymore anyway meant he was certainly more worse for wear. His aura was nonexistent, a flicker around his muscles as he moved, powered by his corporation alone.

"Are you alright, Dear?" The Angel asked him as his shaking hand returned his teacup to the saucer.

"No." Crowley managed, "I'm worried about you. You're barely ticking over."

*

Most of the morning had passed before the call went out.

Anathema, oblivious to the Celestial plan, had got her index cards out. Something suddenly clicked into place.

_"Three there be to burn the night, a' set the heavens themselves alight. Healer, Victim, Tragedy all, Cruelty besets a fall."_

"Jennet!" She cried, flying from her chair, "Newt, Newt, we have to get to the school, I have to see Jennet-"

Newt blinked at her.

"Now!" She yelled, wringing her hands, "I can't let her be hurt because I didn't hold her back this morning!"

*

Jennet was at her locker at school when the call came. She froze, head tilted and eyes widening as though a switch had been pulled. Then she shut the locker and turned away, walking the length of the corridor towards the exit. The locked front door was dealt with in a click. As she stepped down the front steps, the headmistress suddenly called, "Jennet? Jennet dear what are you doing out here? Back to class please."

The woman had reached the bottom of the steps, the girl facing her but not close enough to be herded back. She smiled.

"I'm sorry."

She raised her hand and clicked her fingers, pulling a miracle down. The head teacher turned and walked away, to tell her teacher she had been sick and was being taken home. Jennet turned to the gate, again miraculously unlocked.

_Nope. No time._

All around, time stopped. The girl wrapped her arms around herself, unleashing pure white wings. She felt taller, a young adult in battle armour, a heat haze surrounding her as she reached to her robes ( _Robes? Where did my uniform go?_ ) for the hilt of a sword. The earth around her shook briefly as she drew it.

A flaming sword? She'd heard tales of this from Uncle Aziraphale, and from the Them. Was it the same one? Impossible to tell. But it felt right in her hand.

She bent her knees, and leapt into flight. Somehow she instinctively knew where she was going.

The plain on the edge of reality.

*

Anathema grabbed Newt's hand on the wheel, "Stop."

"But-"

"We're too late."

"Ana, what- how-"

"Don't ask me how I know damnit Newt!" The woman removed her glasses and buried her head in her hands. When she next spoke she was softer, her voice cracking, "I just know she's gone."

Newt pulled into a field opening, and reached for her shoulder, "Ana..."

Then his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, "It's the school."

"I guess it would be." Ana replied, "Answer it then."

It wasn't what they expected.

"Hello, Mr. Pulsifer? It's Heather, from the school? Listen I know the head has already rung you and you've picked up Jennet, terribly sorry to be calling again but Marie has been sick now, would you mind coming back out for her?"

Newt stared at Anathema. The woman took the phone, "Hello, Marie's mom here, Newt will come back out for her." She paused, "Just so I know, what are the details? Jen seems fine to me."

"Mrs Morris was a little vague but said she found her in the playground after break, she must have been sick out there and not been able to come back when the bell rang. If she seems fine she might have just got overexerted, but don't worry about bringing her back, if her sister's been ill now. Just to be safe and all, I mean if it might be food poisoning or something, she would feel better for being sick."

"Agreed." Anathema nodded, "Alright, he's on his way now." She hung up.

"What - we haven't-"

"I would guess like the other celestial beings we know, Jennet can manipulate people." Anathema replied, "Marie is sensitive to disturbances in energy fields and ley lines. She must feel sick because of whatever Jennet did to get off school grounds." She sighed deeply, "Carry on, please. We have to get Marie. Park up in the lane behind the school though - don't want anybody seeing me in the car with you and Jennet not with us."

Newt squeezed the wheel tightly. Anathema glanced to him, "Are you alright?"

"Is she... is she gone... for good?"

"Oh Newt." She opened her arms and hugged him, "I don't want to postulate this time. If I get it wrong..."

"And we can't - can't track her?"

"Not unless you can locate the battle fields of heaven itself."

"Battle fields - our daughter is - oh God Ana!" He was shaking.

"An Angel." The witch finished for him, "She's an Angel built on 'God's own loom'. Here, let me try and contact Crowley. You ride out the shock and when you feel better, we'll go and get Marie. She's our priority."

"Ana-"

"I know. But we always knew God doesn't just craft baby Angels and give them to people. She was given to us for a reason. Our time with her was always potentially short."

"I never got her that puppy." He stuttered.

Anathema stared at the phone, confused, "It's not connecting. Going straight to voicemail."

"What does that mean?!"

"I suppose... They've gone too."


	8. Chapter 8

While all this was happening, the two Celestials in question had been resting in their living room. Aziraphale gazed up suddenly at Crowley, from where his head lay in his husband's lap. Crowley stared back, "Oh N-no. No, No, No."

The angel grabbed for and gripped his hand hard, "N-not again. Not another war. I don't- oh Crowley the children! Will the children-?"

"I don't know angel, just got to keep calm and senses open for any of them."

Aziraphale nodded, "I will."

Crowley scrabbled for his phone, "I'd best try and get in touch with them-" It rang. He stared at it partly in surprise and partly in outrage, before answering, "Adam?"

Aziraphale gazed up at his husband again.

"You - you feel it too? You're-? Okay. You stay put. You'll need to fight if the war comes to Earth, but you made Earth yours - You come up with us and it leaves home undefended. Stay put if you can. Get your - whatsername to tie you down if you have to. Well, it'll take your mind off it won't it! If you can't - if you're dragged along - find us. We'll defend Earth together."

He hung up.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale managed, "I don't think I can answer the call."

"Angel, you have to answer. I can't go up alone." His gold eyes were wide with worry.

"I mean... I can't. Physically. I can barely stand."

Crowley nodded, and moved to lift his leg over his husband and stand by his side. He bent, hefting the angel into his arms, "This drain has to be connected to this war. So we have to see what's going on." He walked them outside, struggling a little for his weakness but still stronger than his husband right now.

"Well, Aziraphale?" He said as they looked skywards.

"If we go, we go together." Aziraphale agreed, "For our side."

"Okay. Shall we..?"

Aziraphale nodded hesitantly, "If you're - if you'll be alright."

By means of reply, Crowley wrapped his arms more tightly around his husband and opened his wings, "Allonsy."

"Excuse me-?!" Aziraphale started.

The celestial plains had always had crap phone coverage.

*

"Luzzien."

"Bee! What is..?" The boy was sobbing. Black patches were appearing on his arms, and his wings were fully spread, with a new, shell-like appearance to the back of them. It shimmered and shone in the sunlight that broke through the boy's bedroom window.

Beelzebub scooped the boy up and ran him to the living room, "We muzzt go. Don't fight it. It will hurt."

The boy closed his eyes, gritting his teeth in pain. Beelzebub snapped, "I zzaid don't fight it!"

"It burns!" The boy wailed. His form, already tall for his 11 years, was changing, becoming taller still. Beelzebub kept hanging on to them, weakness affecting them still, "Zon!"

"Burns..." Lucien managed. Beelzebub spread their wings, breathing hard, "Come, Luzzien. It will feel better zzoon."

The boy looked up, eyes protected by a shimmering shield of purple-blue, "What is this?!"

"A zzcarab beetle, I azzume." Beelzebub replied, "A once holy creature of a facet of creation now found abhorrent. We need to get to the zelestial plains."

"A-A scarab beetle? What does that-" Lucien clung to Beelzebub's hand as the Prince lead him onto the balcony and quickly hopped onto the dividing barrier, dragging him over it. He beat his wings in panic, squeezing his parent's hand in terror, "Where- What is the-"

"You can hear it, can't you?" Beelzebub called back to him, concerned.

"Mmhm."

The Prince squeezed his hand in return, "Itzzz not far. Hold on tight and fly with me."

*

Anathema, Newt and Marie had been home a couple of hours when there was a knock at the door. Opening it revealed Adam, nervous and wide eyed.

"I'm sorry Ms Device." He started, "I've this urge, to go somewhere. But I can't, I know I cant, and... Somehow I ended up here."

"No somehow about it, you're late." Anathema replied, all business for the frightened young man, "I was just about to put the kettle on."

Tea made, the occultist and her remaining daughter sat with Adam in the living room. Newt was reading the papers in the kitchen, anything to try and keep his mind off Jennet.

Anathema sniffed at the runes she had cast, and frowned. Beside her, Marie focussed as hard as she could with a headache, having refused to go and sleep off what had happened.

"I think its..." Her mother started, "Like you've been Cc'd, or rethreaded. Do you use email still? Someone has just put a send all."

"Oh." Adam replied brightly, "Like when Dad returns the photo I send him on facebook?"

"Only on a massive interdimensional corporate scale." Anathema replied, "Sounds like something a lazy Celestial would do."

"And... When I heard my real father?"

"Now that's another question entirely. It may be that he saw your... for want of better words, your pingback, and was curious. He wasn't in a good mood last time you met, after all."

"No."

"I suppose it will all depend on how whatever goes on above... goes." Anathema replied, conscious of the girl at her side, "If your father is involved, Aziraphale or Crowley may know better than I how to deal with this. I don't know. Do you suppose Lucifer has a sense of humour?"

"A sense of humour?" Adam repeated incredulously.

"Yes, would he say something just to 'mess with you'? A 'dad joke'?"

Adam snorted, "I hope it's that simple to explain."

Tea drunk, and Adam feeling a little better in himself (if still terribly wobbly from this morning's sudden weakness), Anathema decided it would be best to send him home.

"Newt will drive you home. You can't be trusted behind the wheel right now. Oh, and take these." She handed the young man a box. Adam frowned, and opened it, "Ms. Device, are these what I think they are?"

"Absolutely. Safe restraints, a little more safe than what Crowley was probably suggesting anyway. Excuse the flamingo colour."

"Ana, why does he have my... uhm..." Newt managed as he moved to get his coat.

"We're upgrading, Newton." Anathema replied.

"But Ana, Mrs Witchfinder-Sargent gave me those."

"And now they are going to a higher cause. I'm sure Tracey will have more recommendations."

"Oh." He replied, "Are you coming too?"

"Not really enough seats unless you want to take one of the child seats out." Anathema replied, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Just get Adam home safe. Marie and I will wait for Jennet to come home."

"You think-?" He managed.

"We hope." Marie whispered.

"I'll hope too." Adam told her, "I'll do my best hoping."

The girl smiled widely, "Thank you Mr. Young. Bring Eva back soon!"


	9. Chapter 9

"Ridiculous." Gabriel snapped, struggling to stay upright, "What IS going on here?"

The warriors were coming to the front, but even at this early stage it was evident that something was amiss. Demons crawling from the stairways to the pit and collapsing to the ground. Angels unable to stand under the weight of their armour. The defectors Gabriel and Sandalphon had spent 11 years collecting, in various states between the two extremes.

And standing between them, a young man, blonde, stocky and covered with grey-blue scales, his protective helmet covering his neck and sporting a long blue metal tongue, protecting his nose at the front.

"I'm a skink!" The lad kept murmuring, a daft grin on his face, "Skinks are awesome!"

"Shut that child up." Gabriel growled.

"He's the only one of us with any power." Sandalphon replied testily.

*

Crowley landed heavily. Aziraphale cradled the demon's head as he eased himself from his husbands arms, "Dear, please - you-you're exhausted."

"Can you- can you sense them?" Crowley gasped a breath, "The kids?"

Aziraphale lay back on the soft ground, eyes closed, a hand squeezing at his cold heart. He reached with everything he still had, casting around. No Alice. No Ariel. No Alexas --

His eyes opened, "Jennet."

"Jennet? Why call a child to the-" Crowley froze, a horrified expression on his face. Aziraphale turned his head, following the demon's stare, and gasped, "Jennet..."

"For all that is good and true, I awaken." The girl said. To the husbands, it was as though a flash of lightning broke up the girl's colours. Her tanned skin turned pale, three gold freckles shone like stars by her right eye. Red hair flowed long and wavy, with a blonde curl at the front. Golden eyes.

Then she raised the sword, and her colouration was back to normal. Aziraphale gasped.

"Crowley-"

"I saw."

"Jennet-" Aziraphale was struggling to stand. The girl - though her body was that of a woman, her angelic mask fully grown on an 11 year old soul - approached them. The sword hung loosely in her hand.

"By God's word I existed, and by her mercy I lived." She sheathed the sword, reaching down to hold Aziraphale's weak hands, "You shouldn't mourn anymore. You always knew, wherever I was, I was happy, and I was cared for."

Aziraphale blinked, spilling tears everywhere. He stammered, unable to speak as he reached to cup her cheek gently.

Golden eyes.

The dimpled sunshine smile.

"You-you were... always l-loved." Crowley said. Aziraphale turned his face to see his husband's tears hastily being brushed aside. He reached his other hand to hold Crowley's cheek, smiling.

In that instant a gentle warmth seemed to enter his body, a breath of relief, a drop of energy. He exhaled, his eyes closing.

"Angel?!" Crowley panicked. Jennet took and squeezed his hand, "That's what shouldn't have been taken from you."

She folded his arm back to his chest and stood, turning away, "I need to help end this."

"Jennet!" Aziraphale cried desperately, "Please, don't-" A shadow of a nightmare caught his memory by surprise, a faceless, nameless child wielding his sword and fighting a war, their heart as battle scarred as his own ended up being.

"Come on." Crowley managed, helping him to sit up, still weak but at least with a little grace to help his aching bones, "Best get after her."

"Crowley she's..." The angel stared at him desperately, "She..."

"She was ours." He managed, nodding too fast in barely contained panic, "She was OURS and she was stolen from us and that ass up above let you go to-"

Aziraphale choked, tears brimming, "Crowley we can't - can't lose her again-"

"No." The demon agreed, "No, you're right. We have to help her."

*

"Michael." Metatron strode into the office and paused, frowning, "Michael, what is the meaning of this?"

Michael looked up from her porcelain seat, "It's nothing. Just something I heard about humans getting their best thinking done."

"You are thinking when there are troops already waiting?"

"I am thinking. What did you want of me?"

"That you attend the plain."

Michael exhaled, "I gather all our energies are drained like this."

"Indeed." Metatron brushed at their sleeve, "Everybody has taken a corporeal form to better ground themselves. Quite unexpected."

"And my brother... he is there?"

"Indeed. As is mine."

"Sandalphon? Somebody finally found him?"

"Word has it that Gabriel is less innocent on the topic of Sandalphon's whereabouts than he let on."

Michael groaned, "Oh Lord, please spare him, he knows not what he's doing."

"She can't hear you right now, you know."

"I know." Michael sighed, standing, placing both hands on her desk, "I sent Uriel to organise. I will be down soon."

Metatron chuckled. Michael frowned, "What? If it's about my use on the battlefield these days I'll have you know I'm more use than God's commentator!"

The other angel chuckled, "No, I was just thinking. What a sight, the archangel Michael sat fully clothed on a human toilet in her office."

Michael sighed.

"Somebody will have canonised that by next week." He added.

"Somebody probably will." She replied, "If it gets out, I will of course blame you."

As she strode past, Metatron laughed, "Talking is, after all, my job description."

*

Jennet looked around her. Angels were huddled weakly behind the scenery (As the plain was created for this battle, maybe scenery was the best word for it, she wondered?) and gathered in disparate groups. She could see a yawning, gaping battlefield of flat ground ahead, a rabble of demons beyond that. And...

From the right a figure was approaching. A blonde wearing shining battle armour. His aura reminded her of Lucien's. That was when she realised there was a third front, a third army, but as yet a third army as exhausted as the first 2.

She walked instinctively towards him.

"You're no Archangel." He said, "Who the hell are you to lead the troops?"

"You're a kid, same as me." She realised, "Maybe I should ask you the same?" She poked him playfully in his ludicrous armour.

Samehra bristled, and reached for a hilt he was only barely aware of. By the time his sword was drawn Jennet had blocked his blow with her own, a flash of memory in her head of wooden swords and squealing playmates in summer holidays gone by. She wasn't even aware she had drawn it until she heard the clash of metal on metal.

Then the blade burst once more into flame, sending them both back a pace, taking a stance.

*

Beelzebub had landed some time ago, at a point away from all the assembled troops. They paused, looking Lucien up and down before deciding, "You must not fight."

"Fight?" The boy was wide eyed, "What are we fighting about?"

"Luzzien. Heaven, and Hell, can't get along. It wazz hoped the arrival of hybrids would help bind the zidezz back together. But all it hazz done izz broken uzz further." the Prince stood a little straighter, the fly on their head having returned as well as a swarm of happy insects. Lucien tried hard not to wrinkle his nose, "Bee-"

"You were not made for fighting. That much izz obviouzz." Beelzebub glanced away, "Zo. I will go and zzpeak to my kind. Zee what izz happening. Pleazze wait here."

"Okay." the boy replied weakly. As the Prince turned to leave, he called, "Bee? Will you come back?"

"I will. You have my word."

"But you told me never to trust the word of a demon."

"I alzzo told you we did not fraternizze with Angelzz." Came the reply, "But you were born regardlezz."

Lucien climbed onto a rock, hugging it close to get a good view without being revealed to the world. Beelzebub vanished quickly towards the downhill slant of the battlefield, the place he supposed the falling angels were pushed towards during the last War.

He felt cold inside. A war? There was to be a war? Another one? He had already got tired of seeing wars on the human televisions. What difference was it up here? He had assumed somehow that despite his Angelic father's actions, that celestial beings were somewhat better at this than humans were.

All the celestial beings he knew were.

The first clash of swords made him flinch harder to the unforgiving stone.


	10. Chapter 10

Metatron glanced to Michael as they rode the lift down.

"You hear anything?"

"No." Michael replied, "But I certainly feel re-awakened." She stretched her shoulders forward, her wings ruffling in their other realm.

"It has begun." Metatron stated.

"No shit."

*

Aziraphale and Crowley hadn't made it far. They were struggling to walk. At length they happened upon the battlefield, some way off to the side of the Angelic troops. There they both had to rest. Aziraphale watched the troops with mixed feelings.

"Looking for friendly faces?" Crowley asked.

"Looking for my squadron."

"You're hardly likely to fight alongside them-"

"No. But I was responsible for them and I..." He paused, squinting, "I can only see a few of them."

The clash of swords made them both jump. Aziraphale's attention was drawn to the children immediately, recognition dawning where it hadn't earlier, "Crowley, her sword-"

"Oh fuck off, you almighty ass!" The demon snarled skywards, "You *really* meant for us to find out now, didn't you!?"

Aziraphale made to reply, but his attention suddenly snapped to the Angels. Crowley followed his gaze. They were standing, revitalised.

Relief suddenly flowed into their bodies as energy returned to them, and Aziraphale finally murmured, "I understand."

"Understand what?"

"It was for the children to decide. Not anybody else. And they've decided to fight."

"Of course they decided to fight, they're children, its part of their play - You've seen them all growing up. This whole thing stinks of a set up." Crowley growled.

A roar to their other side made them both jump. The group that started to pour out of hiding on this side was a mix, Angels and Demons alike. Aziraphale stiffened, "They're there. The rest of them - they defected? Did I - Did they follow me?"

Crowley grabbed his hand, "If they did Angel, they were only trying to think about their situation. Same as you. Same as me, all those years ago."

Aziraphale clenched his fists as tears welled in his eyes, "They - they - Did I influence them?"

Crowley stroked his knuckles, "As your husband, I'm proud of you for teaching them questioning. And also pissed for you that they appear to be following Gabriel."

The Angel focussed in on his former boss, "Oh. Oh no, why would they..?"

"Questioning doesn't mean you get it right first time, after all." Crowley rose, "They're not gunna talk to us traitors. But more importantly, where is Hell?"

*

Lucien heard the roars. It awakened something in his heart. Fear. Rebellion. Fight. Protection.

Beelzebub was making their way down the slope, trying not to cut too pitiful a figure in their weakened state, when they heard the roars and felt the rush of warm raw power return to them. They took immediately to the sky, speeding ahead to find their troops so they could make it back to Lucien in time.

Hastur greeted the Prince in the hollow, "Some of the bastards defected. I made those I caught suffer but not everybody's as good at catching them as me."

"You did well, Hazztur." Beelzebub nodded, "Are we back to full zztrength?"

"Yeah. Waiting for the word."

"We zzhould go then. Get thizz over and done with."

"And our own?"

"Take anybody not with uzzz."

Hastur grinned crookedly, "Its satisfying to have you back, Lord Beelzebub."

*

Jennet clashed swords with Samehra again and again. They were evenly matched, a trained, strong halfling against an angel with speed, stamina and skill woven into her very being. Samehra got frustrated at length, obviously having anticipated an easy fight against the robed girl. He jumped into the air, spreading his wings. Jennet tensed herself, but instead spun as she leapt forward and upwards, springing into the air behind him and bringing the handle down on the back of his neck.

Samehra fell to the ground with a scream, "Fight fair you bloody ass!"

"Get good." Jennet told him. Something in the boy's brown eyes changed. They widened briefly in near panic, before narrowing again in rage, "Don't tell me I'm not good!" He snarled, leaping at her again.

*

The third front was composed of the dispossessed, the disenfranchised. Demons and Angels who felt their sides had let them down. They would not be led by a child, whether hybrid or pre-built for the task. Instead they fell in behind the Archangel Gabriel, even those that had heard the stories, those that knew he was behind Samehra’s training. Celestials who wanted to purge hybrid spawn and Celestials who wanted to increase them stood side by side, unaware of their opposing views.

As the clash of arms became louder word spread of a price on the head of Lucien, then of Samehra. Chinese whispers across the battlefield soon lead to prices on the heads of anyone disliked enough by at least one other being.

Gabriel skirted the battlefield. It was near impossible to tell anybody apart - not that he particularly cared, but equally he didn't want to get his hands dirty or risk discorporation, knowing for what he'd done there would be consequences should he end up back home.

Then he picked out a figure amoungst the fray, revelling at their first chance for true mayhem in 12 years. A distant, 11 year old threat returned to him, and he leapt into the air, drawing a long knife as he did. He had been robbed of his own weapon, so had improvised that morning with a human one.

It was chaotic below. He aimed, descended, had to aim again, as the throng of mixed celestials pushed back and forth. Demons fought with claws and knives and grenades, now that was a new one - Angels fought with arrows, spears, swords - and all of course fought to win, regardless of who's side they had started on.

Gabriel dropped behind Beelzebub and forced the knife into the Prince's back, where their kidneys would be if they were human. The Prince made a noise almost like an angry hornet's nest. As fast as he had dropped, the Archangel rose again, carrying the Prince with him.

"Where is the abominable brat?"

"I am not telling you."

"I'll find it one way or another. Did you want to see it before I discorporate you and kill it?" 

Beelzebub struggled. Dark blood spattered across the battlefield below. The Prince tried to miracle the wound closed, but Gabriel had kept the knife in place and held it there with his own will.

"I'm done, Beelzebub." He growled, "I'm done with being played with. I was defiled by her order - and she wouldn't even speak to me for it! So bugger her plan! I'll end this now!"

"You sound like Luzzifer." Beelzebub managed, spitting blood in such a way that they hit an angel below in the eyes, causing them to scream, "Why have you not fallen, Archangel?"

But Gabriel's eyes had focussed in the distance, on a shining pair of wings and helmet which glinted in the sunlight, the first sight of a figure huddled atop a large rock formation, "Well, well, well..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy anniversary, GOmens!


	11. Chapter 11

Michael struck her shield against a demon's knife, forcing them to the ground and following up with a crackle of holy lightning. The demon whimpered away with a screech. The Archangel staggered back a little, overcome briefly with the force of her confusion and questions.

"Are you alright?"

She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder, and snapped to face the blonde, "Aziraphale. What are you doing here?"

"We... got the call?"

"You... But you're not..." She frowned.

"We evidently still are." Crowley added, skulking around her, "Or we wouldn't have been called."

"I don't see what either of you have to do with this." Michael replied, "Get out of here before you get hurt."

"This shouldn't be happening." Aziraphale said suddenly, "It's been set up."

"Of course it has. By her - the plan-"

"Oh shut _UP_!" Crowley butted in, "Do you lot know what the collective noun for fucking idiots is? Celestials, that's what it should be. Look at you all, fighting because what? One of you pushed another? Millennia old arguments that no one recalls the start of?" He snarled, little black scales popping up on his neck, "Why have none of the third way fallen? Because its part of a plan. All of - this - is part of a plan. Or there is NO plan and you're all just a bunch of idiotic twats!"

"Language, dear." Aziraphale blushed.

"I'm sick of this, Angel!" Crowley snapped, "Look at them all! Meanwhile those kids are being made to fight a war they don't have any part in - OUR LOST DAUGHTER AMOUNST THEM!"

"I know." Aziraphale murmured, "Please, Crowley."

"The children." Michael managed, "The children are fighting?" She turned away from the husbands, seeking a figure amoungst the fighting. A moment later she spied the sheen of metallic purple feathers, and leapt after them.

Aziraphale followed her line of flight, wide eyed when he identified the two she was chasing, "Dear, we should get the word out."

"Angel..?"

"If it's a set up, and the children are the targets..? Surely it's for the good of Heaven and Hell that the children are protected?"

"Angel, I can't leave you, you can't defend yourself!"

"I can't be hurt by hellfire either. I found that out with Hastur. There's plenty of fallen weapons around, I can take care of myself."

"Angel!"

"Crowley - The children. Jennet. If we lose her again..."

Crowley looked for a moment as though he might have a screaming fit. Than he bit his lip, hard, "Alright. Good plan. I'll find Beez or the toad. You... I guess find anybody who's in charge, as the main pair are about to start their own war."

"Good luck love."

"Come back safe, Angel."

*

"There you are."

Lucien felt his blood run cold. There was no mistaking that voice. He sat up and turned around.

"You're that ass from the park."

Gabriel eyed Lucien with disgust. He raised his hand, then seemed to think better of it and snapped his fingers. The battered body of Beelzebub crumpled at the boy's feet as he leapt up, screaming.

"Bee? Bee!"

"Get out of here Luzzien..."

"No!" The boy choked, standing face to face with Gabriel, "No, you're supposed to be an Angel, why are you so mean? Why do you keep hurting us?!"

"You only exist because I loved her." Gabriel replied, flatly, "But she didn't love me, and you should know exactly what that's like by now."

"Don't take it out on me then!"

Gabriel raised his hand again. The boy clenched his fists and dropped to cover Beelzebub.

Holy lightning struck, and bounced off, a shield that surrounded the pair. Before Gabriel could react, Michael had appeared over the edge of the rock formation, "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Oh hello Gabriel, been a while brother, hey why are you so upset Gabriel?!" Gabriel sneered. He nearly choked a moment later when Michael grabbed him, throwing him bodily back across the battlefield. She dropped to the pair a moment later, "Are they..?"

Lucien looked up at her, eyes wide. Then Beelzebub coughed, reaching under themselves to remove the knife, "I would like to put thizz in him zzometime."

"Bee!" The boy squealed. The Prince sat up slowly, "...Thank you zzon. I do not know how you did zzat."

"Didn't want you hurt." The boy replied, hugging the Prince tightly.

"Is he a healer?" Michael frowned, noting the tear and blood soaking the Prince's clothes, but the lack of an opening in their skin.

"I - I don't know - I just didn't want them to die!" The boy cried. Michael nodded slowly, "Maybe, Prince of Hell, you and your son should venture forth and try to prove to the others why our mixing is a good thing?"

Beelzebub buzzed a moment before looking to Lucien.

"You mean like heal people?" The boy asked.

Michael chuckled, "I mean, like heal people, yes."

"Can I, Bee?"

Beelzebub shrugged, "Why not. It izz already chaos down zzzere."

"I will go and apprehend my brother." Michael nodded, "Stay safe."

*

"You expect me to believe anything that comes from the lips of a defector?" Metatron snorted.

"Please, you know even defectors speak the truth sometimes, and you can see the facts for yourself in front of you." Aziraphale implored, "We don't have much time. If Gabriel is so disgusted by the halfling children, and his followers destroy them, a lot of hope from both sides will be lost. More wars as younger demons and Angels are forced to bottle up their feelings. It's not going to end well."

"What if she doesn't mean it to end well?" Metatron asked lightly.

"What if she does?" Aziraphale despaired, "Ask her!"

"Last I heard you had turned your back on her..."

"Which is why I'm telling you to ask her. You won't trust me - but you'll trust her!"

Aziraphale was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder, swung around to face his assailant. Sandalphon had hold of him.

"What was that?"

"Your son." Aziraphale managed despite his fear at being held so tightly by God's own smiter, "If you care about him, don't trust that Gabriel will let him live. Surely you've heard the whispers out there-?"

"Enough of that." The disgraced Archangel himself strode up, brushing down his armour, blazing with a fire not quite as bright as before. He grabbed Aziraphale by his lapels and hauled him into the air, out of Sandalphon's grasp, "You. All this. You can't be trusted. The halflings. The war. All this is entirely your doing. I overlooked so much un-angelic behaviour from you, you should have fallen many times over, no wonder your disgusting activities provoked this! And now I can wipe the slate clean, obliterate them all in one stroke!"

Aziraphale froze. His heart thumped in his corporeal chest, a bizarre experience after so many years. Then he began to shake. He blinked, screwing his eyes up hard. Gabriel's face changed entirely. He stepped back, letting go of him, "Not again-"

He backed into Sandalphon, who was also staring, "What did you do to him this time?"

Aziraphale didn't understand. It had been so long since he'd had any real power at his hands, and it was immediately overwhelming. He didn't understand the force that welled up at those words though.

"Unangelic? Disgusting? Obliterate?" each word he forced from his lips sounded like it was surrounding him, spoken by someone else. Or rather, several someones... "These are not my flaws, Archangel."

This was it. He could feel it. This wasn't London, and the risk here was as minimal as it would ever be to Earth. He folded at once in on himself and threw himself out, letting that force finally overcome him. His head felt light, Gabriel and the others suddenly distant.

"Have you finally fallen, Gabriel?" He felt his suddenly jagged toothed mouth smile, "Maybe you shall fall, Archangel."

He was distracted from the view of the tiny celestials by his own hand. It was glowing with fierce, unearthly hazes of colour.

_Flames. Okay. But should they really be blue?_

*

Hastur swaggered almost drunkenly with a heavy new weapon towards the front line.

"Hey, Hastur, where'd you get that?" Crowley chuckled.

"Borrowed it..."

"You can do real damage with one of those."

"That is the point." the wild eyed demon caught the hilt and shoved the massive hammer in Crowley's direction. The snake demon swung his hips just in time to avoid the clumsily placed blow. Before the Duke could retrain his aim though, a shower of ice crystals clattered louder than weapons and screams against the ground around them. Crowley froze, a plethora of allusions to Aziraphale and Ice crowding his mind.

"What the..." The Duke snarled.

"Oh no, no, someone hit him!" Crowley panicked, and set off at a sprint. Black scales twitched on his spine as he hurtled towards the massive, familiar energy build up on the opposite side of the battlefield. In the distance he thought he saw crystalline wings unfolding, stretching heavenward, before there was a bright flash of light. The battlefield beneath his feet shook violently. Many fell groundward, and cracks opened up far and wide.

Red and blue fire rained briefly, and Crowley crawled onward on his hands and knees, ever forward, ignoring how his fingers seemed longer and hooked, ending in claws.

"Angel!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapters a bit late. Lot going on. All my readers, stay safe, but especially those of you marching for Black people's rights. My heart is with you and what money I can spare is in your bail funds and the BIm funds.  
> Love to all.


	12. Chapter 12

Jennet shrieked. Whatever shockwave split the ground was also moving skywards, and it briefly threw those who were fighting above with it like waves crashing on Bournemouth beach in a storm. She regained her balance easily, but was distracted suddenly by the flood of emotion that filled the battlefield. She paused, a hand at her heart.

Then Samehra charged her again, and she readied herself to keep going.

*

Hastur swung the hammer, striking it hard into the ground and toppling many celestials nearby who were still dizzy from the previous shock. As the dust settled patterns began to emerge, strange, shimmering figures that had no business in this realm. A thin blonde man in a trench coat almost as disreputable as Hastur's used arcane symbols drawn in the air to light a cigarette, before throwing them outward as defensive wards. A blonde woman in various shades of blue and emblazoned with rainbows leapt into the fray, whispering words of wisdom to frightened younger beings facing off with older ones. Beings from beyond this reality. The celestials could have fought and debated for millennia about who these people and beings were - and how they related to her upstairs - if they were not certain that it had to end, here, now, consumed with blinding bloodlust.

More ice and fire fell from the skies in a battle even Hastur could not follow. And then everything stopped. Not the fighting but everything, even the dust in the air stilled.

A short pale goth girl with wild black hair strode amongst the no-when around them. Movements occurred in her wake. The smoking man summoned the energy to nod in recognition. The goth waved cheerily and carried on her way to wherever movement needed to be.

Crowley found his way blocked by a trident that narrowly (some may say suspiciously miraculously) missed him. He almost grabbed at it and swore, just in time. Celestial weapon, coated in holy water. Angel might be immune to Hellfire but he wasn't going to risk touching Holy water unless it was life or death. Dropped into the battlefield though, the weapon would work as a landmine for demon kind.

"You bloody idiots! Are you so desperate for your petty, useless war that you're happy to kill us all? If the almighty had wanted us exterminated she had a chance 6000 odd years ago!" The demon fell to the floor once again before another shower of ice made him scrabble upwards and resume his trek. He screamed Aziraphale's name.

"Get the heaven down you idiot!" Shrieked a demon suddenly.

"Fuck off!" Crowley replied. The demon grabbed at him, trying to push him down, "It'll fucking see you! Kill yourself sure but don't take the rest of us!"

"I said get LOST Phil!" Crowley walloped his arms backwards as he shouted, slapping the demon hard in the unmentionables that he was apparently currently sporting. Phil snarled at him. Then Crowley saw what had him so frightened.

It had 6 wings, 8 arm-like limbs, eyes for miles and it's pale skin was covered in language. The smallest pair of wings at it's head were wrapped around it's face as it screamed with apparent rage. Then it swung it's head to him and focussed. Crowley could feel every single eye, scattered across it's second pair of wings and it's shoulders, boring directly into his soul.

It leapt into the air, unwieldy but somehow streamlined, bullet fast. Crowley turned and began to run, suddenly afraid. He had heard tales of destructive beasts created by accident by the committees that helped God populate the earth. The ones too horrible and too violent to exist were sent to their own plane of reality to live. The world destroyers. Had somebody summoned them?

It was still honing in on him in all it's horror. Wings beat, claws scraped the battlefield, eyes scrutinised him, and whirling, buzzing gravitational fields pulled at his psyche. He reached out with his mind in panic, "Angel, I know you're still here, where are you?"

"You're going the wrong way." The voice was cold, flat, but recognisable. Crowley staggered to a halt, exhausted, "I don't- I can't see you-"

The monster landed, blue flame pouring down it and ice crystals crashing down as it did. Crowley froze to see it finally up close. Long, pale hair flowed from its scalp, moving of it's own accord, twisted and turned by the gravity that fluctuated all around it. The eyes on its wings were shimmering in swirls of colour, ever changing. Earthly letters of every language ever committed to the page crawled across skin almost as pale as snow, setting off quite how red the creatures sullen mouth of sharp teeth was. Three pairs of wings in all, the middle pair frozen in position seemingly with shards of glass, a crystalline river that flowed and bit at the creatures neck and cut deep into it's bared chest around it's heart. Its ribs jutted a little, set off by the shine of more glass worked through and under the skin.

Crowley began to shake in realisation. Those wings set in glass were the same colour as his own. He took a step, reaching for the creature's aura.

"A-angel?"

All the free wings opened. The creatures vaguely humanoid form was absolutely plastered in eyes and letters, changing and re-etching every second in ripples of language. It's 4 pairs of limbs were clearly humanoid hands, cat-like paws, Ox hooves, and the humanoid legs ended with eagle feet. A feathered tail covered the monster's naked backside.

Every eye was focussed on him as he whispered, "You - you never said - You never-" anger rose in his throat, his own claws knitting at the air as he growled, "Why didn't you tell me? 6000 years, 3 kids and a marriage not enough for you to tell me when your entire being changes? Beyond 'I'm in flux'?! That's like a human telling their partner they were in an accident but are actually now a head in a glass jar!"

A rumble, and the ground split between their feet. Aziraphale didn't speak. Crowley felt tears, "You really are a bastard aren't you?"

"No." The creature replied, "It is true, I changed. You remarked on it yourself. But I never realised quite how much..." he looked down at himself, "Or quite how much you had also changed..." He bowed his head, "I d-don't quite know who I am."

"Why do you need to know who you are? I know who you are!" Crowley ignored the comment about himself, swaggering with a confidence he didn't feel but his body still knew how to show, "You're my husband, Aziraphale. You're the angel who wouldn't escape the Bastille without being told to, because he knew someone had to die in his place, you're the noble Knight who went questing for a cause we've long ago forgotten. The angel who offered his wing to a demon for the first rain." his voice cracked as he finished, "My husband..." He spun on the spot and pointed a long, sharp digit directly at the core of the being before him. "Frankly, if I knew you were hiding this Behemoth in you I wouldn't have hogged the blanket so much!"

Aziraphale frowned with many sets of eyes. "Are you trying to anger me or infuriate me?!" he boomed.

"Well, bit of both. Actually I was hoping you would tone it all down a bit and we could go for one of those cream teas in the village?"

Aziraphale made a noise somewhere between a roar and a sob. Crowley pushed it a bit further, "I'm just so glad we live In the country. Just imagine the fuss you'd be making if you went all Howard Phillips in that bookshop of yours, eh? The mess, I ask you, Aziraphale, who would you turn to about the mess alone?"

"I had a perfectly lovely woman who cleaned for me once. Rhian her name was." the words, though undoubtedly Aziraphale's, were still broadcast as if through celestial bullhorn, shaking the very earth. Much like Brian Blessed yelling a nursery rhyme down a mountainside. Crowley burst into laughter, "You planning on coming down anytime soon? I think you made whatever point you wanted to make."

There was a pause.

"I-I don't know how."

"You what?"

"I DONT KNOW HO-" The God-marked eye in the middle of the Angel's forehead sparked brightly.

"For somebody's sake Angel I heard your foghorn yelling the first time!" Crowley had clapped his clawed hands over his long ears and moved closer theatrically, shouting his own words, "WHY DONT YOU KNOW HOW?"

"It-its been... a long time."

"Well there has to be an easy way to do this"

"I seem to recall you said much the same in Alexandria."

"Look how that turned out."

"Those poor books." Aziraphale's lettering had turned grey and patchy in remorse. Crowley was close enough now to reach tentatively and touch one of the humanoid hands. They were as cold as the ice crystals.

"You need to go home and calm down. How did you change? What triggered it?"

"G-gAbRIEl."

"What did that useless bastard want?"

"G-Genocide. I should have... Should have seen, it's my-my FaUlT."

"His fault. Always."

Aziraphale let out a small whimper, "CaNT leT HIm HURT ThE-THe ChilDREN."

"So you smote him - or whatever we do?"

"Nnnnnnooooo..." the angel moaned.

"No idea why you didn't." Crowley teased, "You'd be within your rights."

"N-NO MORE WAR, CROWLEY." the form fell slowly to its knees, resting on all its sets of limbs, "No more war, please, just leave us in peace."

Crowley put a hand to Aziraphale's forehead. The God marked eye had closed.

"No more." He agreed, "No more, Aziraphale."

"Crowley?"

"Mm?"

"You. You changed too."

Crowley rose up to his full height. He was, indeed, taller than he remembered, even as small as he felt standing before Aziraphale's monster of a true form. He looked down.

"Oh."

"You look like the Kulkulkan." Aziraphale's lettering flittered about, with Mayan markings making an appearance particularly, "But with limbs."

The demon swung his tail and flapped his multiple wings, "Had to do something while we were both having breakdowns."

"Oh. Oh Crowley..."

The behemoth folded in on itself carefully. Crowley was careful to do the same. Quietly, carefully, in control.

"Do you feel better now?" He managed.

"No." The angel replied, and met his eyes, "I did that to you."

"I've had worse."

"Falling?"

"No." Crowley smiled, "Having you for a husband, you old bastard."

Aziraphale crumpled to the ground. Crowley grasped at him, letting him downwards gently, "Angel, Angel!"

The battlefield was quieter now, the myriad of strange and unknown figures mostly gone, and the pause having shaken many of the fighters into realisation, but high above there were still clanks and screams of fighting hurriedly resumed as gravity asserted itself. Then there was a sudden scream that made them all stare skywards.

The duel at the battle’s heart was still between the children. The return of regular time made Jennet wince. She had lost her sword and Samehra was fast flying at her.

Soaring past them came the graceful form of Archangel Michael, her own blade thrown in perfect pace to fit Jennet’s hand.

In the instant of her grip the sword burst into white hot flames, and she spun 180 degrees to find herself impaling Samehra.

The two children stared into each others eyes, spiralling in slow motion towards the churned earth to land at the feet of the goth girl.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, you-you were going to-" Jennet panicked as she and Samehra landed. The boy screeched in agony on the floor, not hellish enough to be destroyed by a holy sword but demonic enough for it to burn.

Lucien came running, "What- what is-" he paused, "Oh my... Oh."

Samehra wailed. Jennet turned to Lucien, "I didn't mean to, he was right behind me! I would have pushed him back but he was too close to swing the sword!" As she stepped back the weapon clattered to the ground and promptly went out. Jennet began to cry. Lucien squeezed her hand, "We have to help somehow."

"But he's part demon, that's a holy sword-"

The stray goth girl neither of them had noticed squeezed Lucien's shoulder, "You got this, kid." and was gone.

Lucien pursed his lips and knelt. Samehra shrieked again when he touched him, "Get away!"

"No, you're hurt."

"No shit, your friend is crazy!"

"Nah, she's not crazy." Lucien made his hand into a fist, "And neither are you. You're just so sad. You were already sad in the park, all those years ago." He pushed his fist against the wound. Samehra hissed, strong hands trying to push Lucien away, but the pain the glow of the other boys hands made him unable to try.

Jennet was shaking as the lad panted. "Is he okay?"

"Aaah.. " Samehra was crying now, "I don't like this, I want to go home!"

"Me too." Lucien nodded, "Why are they all fighting? Bee tried to explain but I don't understand."

"I want to go home too." Jennet sobbed, "I want Mama and Papa and Marie!"

"Jennet-" Lucien started, but the girl tore herself away from him and began to run.

*

As Crowley held tightly onto Aziraphale, he barely registered the soft footfall of the slender angel until she was a metre or so away. She clasped her hands before her, tears streaming down her cheeks. Crowley gazed up at her, her face so familiar from years of visits but the red hair, streaks of blonde, gold eyes and freckles so easy to see suddenly. A blink and they were gone again.

"Jennet." He breathed.

"Dad, daddy..." she managed. Crowley opened his other arm, hugging the girl. Momentarily another pair reached up, holding them close.

"Jennet." Aziraphale whispered.

"S-She said." Jennet managed, "She named me - Ashtara Ona. Like - like-"

"AOFC." Crowley's breath caught, "Like your sisters and brother."

"But Jennet suits you just fine." Aziraphale told her. Jennets hands reached for their faces, "I didn't want to... I didn't want to hurt anybody..."

"Our daughter." Crowley managed, "So proud of you."

"So proud." Aziraphale echoed, "Your first concern was everybody else."

There was a light jingle, a sound like glass wind chimes. Crowley glanced up from the hug to find the three of them shielded from the dregs of the fight by his husband's icy-crystalline coated wings.

"They're still-" He managed.

"They're what I am." Aziraphale replied quietly.

"They're not." Jennet sobbed, "They're cold. You're not cold, daddy."

*

Left almost alone, Lucien scanned his eyes over the battlefield above them. It had at least stopped raining fire, ice and discarded weapons, although the noise still echoed around them. The boy glanced down to Samehra, still recovering, breathing hard and fast.

"You must have the luck of Lucifer."

Both boys glanced to the familiar voice. Gabriel walked towards them with purpose, his armour scorched and his rage close to complete meltdown.

Lucien stood, spreading his iridescent wings to make a barrier between the Archangel and the injured boy.

"Leave me alone!" He yelled, "I didn't ask to be your son!"

"Don't provoke him!" Samehra squeaked. Lucien looked back at him, concerned.

"Don't worry." Gabriel snapped, "I'll get to that one when I'm done with you."

Samehra curled up with a whimper, covering his head with his arms.

"Stop this." Lucien managed, "I don't understand but we haven't done anything." His eyes briefly found Jennet's fallen sword, but he dismissed the idea as rapidly as it had come.

"You represent the unholy union." Gabriel replied, "Of a demon and an angel. You are an abomination. You are everything wrong with what's happening - breaking the rules by even existing!"

"They aren't my rules!" His temples throbbed, and he felt his form shift slightly. Horns appeared in his vision and he shook his head, trying to wish them away. His eyes blazed purple as he tensed, "That's not my fault!"

"No." Gabriel replied, and took a deep breath. His shoulders briefly sagged, "It's mine. You're my fault. So I'm going to fix this."

"Is this why you went into hiding and built the third front, brother?" A bright light surrounded the Archangel Michael as she descended, lightning splitting the sky above them, "Is this why you refused to see him?"

Lucien grabbed Samehra's shoulders, pulling him away, "Get up. We have to hide." but the boy just whimpered in reply.

At the edge of his vision he saw the sword glide effortlessly from the ground, back to the grip of its owner. Distracted he stumbled and suddenly there were hands grabbing at him. And a pair on Samehra. Lucien struggled, "No, no don't let them take him he's-" The boy turned to the owner of the hands, "Bee. Bee! Please don't let them hurt him!"

"He won't." The demon promised.

"It's alright." the new voice was saying. Lucien turned to see a different Archangel, a balding man who looked as though he belonged in a hardware shop, holding Samehra - the boy clinging to him as if he wasn't currently at least a foot taller than him.

"You will have to zzpeak to Hazztur, of courzze." Beelzebub said.

"Yes." The Angel nodded, "I suppose I shall."

"Who is-?" The boy questioned.

"Hizz father, Archangel Zzandalphon." the Prince explained.

"This is Gabriel's son?" Sandalphon asked suddenly.

Lucien blinked at him, "I.. am."

"He has sinned. He told us you were a demon."

"There hazzz been a lot of liezz." Beelzebub intoned, "Even an Archangel can apparently lozze their mind, if puzhed."

Lucien returned his eyes to his father. The fight seemed to have gone from him at the light Michael was exuding. She took his shoulders, kneeling him before her. Then she kissed his forehead sadly, "Eyes down, Gabriel. She hears you."


	14. Chapter 14

Crowley reached out to Aziraphale as he escaped the hug, touching his wings, "This wasn't like this when we taught the twins to fly." He paused, "B-but... you said I should teach Lex. And Jennet. Did you know?"

"They were so heavy." Aziraphale managed, the girl still clinging to his side, "So cold..."

"Oh Angel..." Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel's neck. He paused, "What is..?"

Aziraphale let him pull his bow tie free and unbutton the top of his shirt, "What is this? Is it spreading? What's happening to you, it looks like-" his breath hitched, "A noose around your neck." He looked into his husbands shirt, "The rope of which is knotted around your corporeal heart." He stopped talking, "The cold. I.I thought you were better. Though you felt... Okay. After the breakdown. You didn't tell me."

"I thought I'd be okay. But there are no rules to grief." Aziraphale whispered, "-and we lost a - a child." He stroked Jennet's hair, "There are humans who grieve their whole lives for a lost one."

Crowley's face creased in rage and he screamed upwards, making both angels jump, "You asshole! You did this to him! You made him suffer as nobody should have to!"

"Crowley-" Aziraphale started, but there was an almighty boom. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale tightly, scooping up Jennet in the process, "Leave them alone!"

There were gasps from the fighters that lay around them, resting their wounds. Walking towards them were two figures, one warping and rippling with constant change. The other wore a form that was the cause of the shock that rippled through the older angels and demons. A small entourage of familiar celestials followed in their wake.

"Lucifer." Aziraphale managed. The enchanting humanoid form with hauntingly beautiful, eyes and long, braided hair glanced around him at the carnage, but kept up the pace with God.

"Stand down, Crowley." Lucifer said as they came to a halt. His voice was calm, nothing of the raw rage of the hellbeast he was down there.

"No." Crowley growled, "Not when my husband is in danger. When our daughter was taken from us and returned to earth under our noses as an angel!" He snarled.

"Crowley, dear child." God said. Crowley hissed.

"You cannot blame me for the gallows your husband built himself."

"I can blame you for his trigger."

"But it was my actions, Crowley." Aziraphale whispered, "I left her behind."

Lucifer strode to the three, easing Crowley and Jennet aside. He gazed into Aziraphale's still murky, rainbow swirled eyes.

"Your mate isn't fallen." he said quietly, touching the ice at his throat, "He is in a prison of his own creation. Only he can choose to leave it."

Aziraphale's wings somehow ruffled, the wind chime noise the only sound across a battlefield that had fallen otherwise silent.

Crowley sobbed, "I tried, Angel."

"I know." Aziraphale replied, "But I needed time." The angel looked up at the Lord of Hell, his hands trembling, "Please. What am I? What are we?"

Lucifer flicked a tongue that was still just a little forked, "Knowledge. Strength. Love. Obsession. You are muse makers."

"Yes, but..."

"Time will tell you, little principality." Lucifer chuckled. It wasn't a cruel sound. Aziraphale distantly wondered why he felt more kindness from Lucifer himself than he did from Gabriel.

"Where's the real action?" at this, the Lord of Hell stepped briefly aside. The ever rippling and changing form that nobody seemed to be able to look directly at came closer.

"I am disappointed, but not surprised."

Every celestial on the field heard her, and every one knew exactly what they had done. Still, she turned to Gabriel, "Aziraphale made a fair point, child. You could fall. You feared you were wrong, but you couldn't accept and atone. Instead you took refuge in Pride. Still. You suffered as you made your principality suffer before you."

"Then it was a punishment." Gabriel may have said, but the Lord's attention had changed, and she neither confirmed nor denied this, "Michael, Sandalphon, Uriel, dears. You were so slow to change! But you did. For that at least I am glad." She cast her eyes upon the remaining pieces before her, "Beelzebub, I am so sorry, dear. I am proud of you, even for all you have done, for still having a heart."

The Prince shuffled uncomfortably. Lucien huddled to them, squeezing their hand gently.

"Crowley-"

"Cut the crap, okay? I know. I told you where to go."

There was a definite laugh, a bright, twinkling sound that probably brought new stars into being somewhere.

"You are a perfect match for your husband." She said eventually. Then she turned to the angel, who stood with his head down, eyes firmly on the floor.

"As for you, Aziraphale." the angel didn't look up.

"You have behaved like such a spoiled child..." Her voice was not unkind, not despairing, maybe a little disapproving? It was so hard to read that voice when it was internal and external all at once.

Crowley bristled, his grip tightening on his husbands hand. Aziraphale squeezed back, "It's alright Crowley. It's true."

"It's not." He hissed.

"Crowley, dear. Why is it not true? Tell us." the lord murmured, although it sounded like she was just trying to make him prove a point rather than being genuinely curious.

"Becaussse." He growled, grip on Aziraphale's hand vicelike, "You put him through something which destroys your human children. Then you hold him to standards impossibly higher than theirs. You treat us with as much contempt as them but ssssomehow we're meant to be above feeling it?"

Lucifer stiffened a little. Crowley wondered if it was presumptuous of him to think maybe the Lord of Hell agreed.

"I was going to say." God said with what was maybe a little chuckle, "But Aziraphale has also shown the capacity to learn from his mistakes."

Aziraphale raised his head a little, but his eyes were on Crowley.

"With help."

"That was what lacked in the rest of you." Lucifer supplied, "Ordered to mingle like these two, you turned it into a bloody captive breeding programme! How was anybody suppose to make it work when you paired each other off and isolated them from support? Crowley, your support network-?"

"The Shadwells, The Devices, your son and his friends, Harriet-" Aziraphale replied in the demon's stead.

"These two used their time wisely. They mixed, networked, linked, bloody talked to each other! They made close allies. They learned about each other. They did not fuck each other just because they believed they were ordered to!" The Lord of Hell paced, "You bunch of idiots. She told us to love humans, remember? The thing I didn't care for as much as her over there and everywhere? So how the fuck did you fools up above and stuck on earth not notice what goes into human family units?" He wheeled again, pointing to Aziraphale, "Where is my asshole son?"

"Awaiting news that he's required to protect Earth in our stead." The angel replied.

"Even that little bastard knows how to form ties and behave appropriately!" Lucifer snarled, "What did any of you think you were doing at that meeting?!"

"Well, we didn't exactly have your perfect little family unit to hand, to be fair." Sandalphon managed.

"You could have postphoned, or even brought it forward!" The lord of Hell snarled, "No, you picked the date they were going to be incapacitated because you wanted to observe the bloody process!"

"Oh Crowley." Aziraphale managed suddenly, "I don't think I could have coped with that."

"Why do you think I stopped you going?" The demon replied, "Alexas is big headed enough, he didn't need birthing to an audience."

"Oi, snake." Lucifer snapped his fingers to quiet the demon, "Just because I'm holding you up as an example doesn't mean you can talk while I am!"

Crowley flicked his tongue irritably and nuzzled at Aziraphale's cheek.

"Do any of you other miserable bastards have anything to say in your defence?!" Lucifer yelled.

"Was this your plan?" came a voice. Beelzebub clapped a hand across Lucien's mouth. Lucifer spun to the boy, narrowing his eyes. Lucien gazed levelly back, now presenting more human than scarab in the lord's prescence.

"Let him speak, Beez."

The hand loosened. Lucien swallowed, perhaps realising he had missed how powerful the being he addressed might be, "You're being really defensive is all. Everybody makes mistakes."

"Everybody?" Lucifer narrowed his eyes.

"Everybody." Lucien nodded, "Bee said it's part of experiencing life."

"Oh, they did, did they?" Lucifer chuckled. Beelzebub made to pull the boy as best behind them as they could, "He izz a child, and open to mizzinterpretation."

"No doubt about that. At least yours listens to you." Lucifer paused momentarily, rolling a thought around their head.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late folks. I was up last night playing final hallway 13 while drinking gin.

In a little flat, a small dog whined where he lay by the crib.

"How are you feeling now?" Emilie asked.

"...A little better, thanks." Adam managed, struck by a strange release of power fed pressure that he hadn't noticed building in his skull. A bizarre idea entered his head regarding something he'd been holding onto for a while, "Hey, my Jacket's on the back of the door, would you check the left pocket?"

"The work one?" the woman asked as she rummaged in the jackets on the pegs.

"Mmhm."

"What's this?" The woman frowned, producing a small box.

"That's the one." Adam replied, "Emilie, would you? I mean... I don't think I could bear to lose you."

The woman opened the box to reveal a small gold ring, "Oh my... Adam Young, I am going to tie you up more often!"

It glowed briefly as she put it on, the protective markings Anathema had helped him with working their magic. Dog wagged his tail enthusiastically.

*

"Lucifer." God had evidently grown tired of the Demon monologuing.

"Yeah?"

"What do we do now?" asked the deity lightly.

"You're asking me?" Lucifer managed. It was his turn to look worried.

"I ask for your opinion. We have discussed the options, and reasons."

The demon cast his eyes around. They landed on Michael, where she held Gabriel still, knelt before the Lord. They crossed Aziraphale and Crowley, Jennet visible over their shoulders. They crossed over Sandalphon, holding Samehra close still.

Then they found Beelzebub again, the Prince managing a flat stare while their son peered around them, scared and upset that he might have made a mistake of his own. Lucifer's eyes returned to the Lord, taking in all this plus the carnage of the fight, the cracks in the plains where Aziraphale had broken the shell of this fragile reality, and he straightened.

"The merge." He said, "With a new leader born of both sides."

"You choose wisely, my son." The deity nodded, "Which child?"

Lucifer considered. Then he turned, "Beelzebub, please bring your son here."

Lucien panicked. Beelzebub gripped his hand, though for the first time Lucien could feel theirs shaking too.

"I am here, zzon."

The boy walked with trepidation. His pale grey wings ruffled and dropped slightly, his shining armour flittering out of existence as he bowed his head in respect when Beelzebub did. Lucifer, still taller than Lucien's adult body, bent to the boys level, gazing into his purple eyes, "This one. I like him. The others are too much angel, either by body or by brainwashing. This boy is truly half."

"Please, Sir." Lucien managed, "What are you picking me for? I don't think it's the football team is all."

"You'll see. Your name?"

"Lucien, sir."

Lucifer began to roar with laughter, shooting a glance at Beelzebub, "I like your parents tongue in cheek style." he stood, "As for your other parent..." He turned to the Archangels, "What shall we do with him, Lucien?"

The boy stared wide eyed at Gabriel, but the angel didn't look at him.

"Come now, you must harbour something against him..."

"No." Lucien said, "I feel sad for him."

The Lord smiled.

"Gabriel shouldn't fall." Lucien said, "Nobody should hurt like Bee did." The boy raised his head to look the respective heads of heaven and hell in the eye, "But he can't come home. He's lived on Earth 12 years, he has a life he can live there. But he can't come back. He's hurt so many people." The boy pointed to Aziraphale and Crowley, "And he can't hurt them anymore. They're important. They're kind. They need protecting."

"What do you say, Michael?" God asked. Michael looked up from her brother, meeting eyes with Lucien. Her heart sank, and she straightened, "I do not resist. My brother has earned far worse a fate. I will align with Lucien, Prince of Wherever we are to be assigned now."

"Lucien's a Prince!" Jennet whispered excitedly. Crowley shushed her with his hand.

God raised a hand and held it steady for a moment. The battleground around them was cleared of debris, the mixed figures around them standing, wounds healing, weapons gone.

"No more Heaven. No more Hell. Aside from your duties in watching over the humans." she said, "You will build your new lives here." She gestured suddenly towards Aziraphale and Crowley, "Ashtara, I must speak with you before I leave."

"Yes Lord." The girl picked herself up and pattered away. Aziraphale reached numbly after her, but the Lord smiled, "I will not harm your Angel. She'll be back in one piece."

Then they were gone.

Lucifer exhaled, "I'm out of here. Try not to fuck up anymore than you already have, okay?" He stretched out his wings, wide spanned and black with silver flecks. Aziraphale wondered if they had once been gold.

"Keep up the good work, you Ineffable douchebags." The lord of hell clapped Crowley and Aziraphale on the shoulders, giving Crowley his voice back at the same time, and moved to Beelzebub, "Good work on raising a decent child from that asshole." Then he moved to Michael, "I'll settle him. Think he needs a stiff talking to anyway." He grabbed Gabriel's collar, "Stay fresh, cheese bags!"

There was a stunned silence as the two celestials vanished skyward. Crowley chuckled suddenly, "If he leaves a room like that its no wonder Adam wants nothing to do with him."

The others stood numbly for a few moments. Then Lucien coughed, "So... I'm the boss, right?"

"Zzo it would seem." Beelzebub replied.

"Will you and Michael stay too?"

"Of courzze."

"I think maybe if they see us all together they might realise it's over is all."

"And the third way?" Michael managed suddenly, "Gabriel was insistent on wiping you and - the other child-"

"Samehra." Sandalphon supplied.

"Yes. He was going to kill you both."

"Let me speak with them." Sandalphon said, "Sam. You should stay with the others here. Uriel - would you gather the healers and begin to set up camp?"

"Of course." The other Archangel nodded, "Come with me, Samehra. We will find you a place of safety."

With the need for war fading, the boys had reverted to their regular appearances. Samehra looked up at Uriel, his brown eyes afraid, "Dad. Dad I'd rather stay with you-"

"Samehra-" Sandalphon started, an edge to his voice, but then he paused, "Sam. Go with Uriel. I will speak with the troops, then be back for you. It may be dangerous out there. And I-" He met Beelzebub's eye, "Must speak with your other father."

*

"How will it work, my Lord?"

"It will work as they want it to work." came the reply, "But I foresee an Earth-born halfling modelling his new world on what he has experienced - a city, a mix of all his peoples - with jobs above or below dependant on their skills."

"Earth isn't perfect though."

"No. But it is a work in progress, and he was raised in such a way that he, unlike Gabriel, can accept change."

"Yes." Jennet lowered her gaze, where they sat on a rocky outcrop of a nearby mountain, "Lord? Where do I fit into all this? Do I stay?"

"You are free to do as you desire."

"As I..?"

"Your first instinct was to protect, yourself and others, against a threat. And that was with the flaming sword, an ancient weapon only bestowed on my warriors who had the strength to use it, and the heart to know when they must not. Your father was very proud of you."

"But it wasn't right? I hurt Sam-"

"It was regrettable, but you have to choose if it was right."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Shhh. I know. But it happened. The morality of protecting, that's for you to decide. But time is short, Ashtara, and I must tell you something."

There was a pause. Jennet shifted her gaze to the edge of the Lord's form, "Go on. Please."

"You're an angel." God smiled sadly, "But an angel raised by humans, and that means that unfortunately some day you'll have to say goodbye to your family."

Jennet dropped her head, "I did think it wouldn't do to keep them going just for me."

"No. But... you do have another family."

"I do."

"If you ever get tired of being an angel, Ashtara. Know there's always a space for you in your other family. You were always loved. There is a space, a name, and a profession."

"I knew. I always knew, somehow. Like... having 2 places I belonged. And I saw what it did to them, losing me..."

"And at that point, when you need to be, you can be who you could have been." The voice was soft, "That's your choice, too. But speak to them when the time comes. Your daddy may have feelings about it all."

They looked out over the battlefield. Jennet picked out Aziraphale and Crowley sat together amoungst the disparate troops from all sides, some seeking comfort with others, some alone. A few who weren't needing to recover from the physical or mental scars of what had happened were beginning to set up camp.

"You mean I could stop being an angel, and be a muse?" Jennet managed.

"Of course."

The girl blinked back tears, "Of course." She murmured, "Who better as a muse of tragedy, than one who knows how it feels to lose their life before their time?"

"If that is your choice."


	16. Chapter 16

"What are you going to tell them?" Hastur asked, "They've been spoiling for this fight. And we all have our problems with the idea of mixing."

"You have dispersed knowledge of the hell spawn?"

"Yes. They know he is to be feared."

"My zzon may look small and fragile, but I have zzzeen him ztare into the eyes of God and Luzifer. The child does not fear hizz makers. He makes me feel the zin of pride that I had a hand in thiz."

Hastur nodded, and stood aside for Beelzebub to address the demons that milled on the side of the battlefield with the gaping hole from below. As they began to speak, other demons came back to the ranks. Older demons, cowed by the order to mix, stood huddled together unhappily. Youngsters, lulled into the idea that mixing would be good, but lied to by the Angels in charge, skulked in sulkily and dared anybody to call them out on it.

A few did. A fight broke out which Beelzebub sent their flies to settle a few moments later. Lucien cast his eyes over the crowd, viewing 'his people' fully for the first time. Of course he had seen some of them before. Hastur, Dagon, and any reporting demon who had turned up in the flat while Lucien was playing computer games or doing his homework were all already aware of the boy, and some of them had seen him rage when he lost online games too!

Hastur's attention was taken a moment later. Michael glanced at him, and then to where his eyeline was.

"Bastard!" The demon yelled, hurling himself at his target with a snarl. Sandalphon punched him, holding him at arms length, "I came to apologise you idiot."

Hastur bared his teeth, "Apologise? You wretched excuse for an Angel, I'll rip your throat out."

"Before you do." The Archangel growled in return, his tone thick with clearly malicious intent towards the demon should he refuse, "Maybe you'd care to meet your son?"

*

"I wish we could leave." Aziraphale murmured, as he swirled a pale liquid almost but not quite exactly unlike tea around the bottom of a barely plastic cup, "I'm not really very comfortable with this many angels watching us like deities ourselves."

"We'll go when Jennet gets back." Crowley promised, "None of this is our concern."

"Certainly not when they can't even make a decent tea." The angel replied. The liquid ignored his attempts to make it look interesting.

"Sorry, think that's one of ours." Crowley sniffed and wrapped an arm around him, which he reciprocated. There was a chorus of chatters off somewhere a few metres away, but they were both too tired from the day to pull away from each other now. Aziraphale reached a hand to his husband's cheek, stroking it gently as he gazed into those gold eyes.

"You were wonderful." He said.

"You didn't seem to want me to defend you." The demon fired back.

"I will hear out my sins." Aziraphale replied, "But it was good to not have to hear them out alone. You were wonderful. And I fully intend to show you my appreciation when we're home."

"Why wait?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, "Show these idiots how it's done!"

Aziraphale smiled widely, lighting up his face and crinkling his eyes, "Well. Maybe just one lesson for them." He leaned forward to kiss the demon. Crowley whimpered as the angel pulled him to sit closer, held gently yet firmly in position as their tongues clashed.

"Is that a suitable first lesson, love?" The angel whispered as they broke apart a moment later.

"Angel." Crowley moaned, his skin developing goosebumps, "That was lessons 1 to 3, at least."

There was a cough. Jennet stood before them, an 11 year old girl again in a crumpled gingham school dress, her white socks around her ankles and her shoes scuffed from the trek down the mountain.

"I'd like to go home please." She said.

*

"There's no high ground to take, and these rocks look like paper mache. All that stuff you kept yelling at me is useless. It's irrelevant. All those times you told me I was foolish and dirty and needed to do better... It was for nothin', wasn't it?!"

Samehra had recovered some of his faculties (and his bravado) by the time a blonde haired, black eyed demon barged into the tent he was hiding out inside. He eyed the intruder, "Oh hell, you're a mess."

Hastur glowered, "Get up then brat, let's see you."

Samehra bristled, "You don't tell me what to do, demon, you're not my father-"

"On the contrary." Hastur pushed the boy against a tent support pole one handed, winding him and causing the tent itself to shift around them, "I am your demonic father." He wrinkled his nose, staring into the boys warm brown eyes. Samehra was trembling.

_Weakling._

Hastur snorted, letting go of him, "Stand up straight. Let me look at you."

The boy did as he was told. He could certainly pass for an angel, his pale blonde hair mid length and cascading around his shoulders. It almost made the demon angrier, a flicker of a memory of his own flowing hair tied in braids and lovingly tended to by---

He cut that thought off. Samehra was taller than Lucien, a little stocky, and he bore both gold and leaf green scales on his neck.

"Hn." the demon decided.

"You-you're my-other dad?"

"The same."

"But you're a-a demon."

Hastur flicked his sticky tongue irritably, "Nothing wrong with your eyes then."

"I-im not afraid of you."

"Don't lie to me boy, I am a Duke of hell! Lies are for tempting with." he snarled. Samehra cowered, but shrieked, "I've been punished for sins, you can't hurt me more than God's smiter!"

Hastur growled low in his throat. The boy backed away, "Okay! I'm afraid."

"Steals my child and punishes them for any trace of me?!" Hastur shrieked, pacing the tent floor space. Samehra sank to the floor in defence in case he was about to be punished, but the demon was distracted now, "Truce or not I'll rip his fucking face off!" He stormed out.

"Oh..." The boy shook. Then he steeled himself, "Please, please don't hurt my dad-" He followed the demon out. There were sudden shrieks of terror, and the boy came to a halt. Hastur was dripping wet. Sandalphon was putting out a small fire on his coat.

They stared at each other.

"You're--" Sandalphon managed.

"--Immune." Hastur snarled, "Like Crowley's spoilt little shit of an Angel."

"I suppose the Lord and Lucifer meant it when they said we should merge." Uriel snapped, "And took away the easy route to horrible murder. Now stop being ridiculous, both of you, and help me set up more shelter. Everybody needs to rest, and the Prince and his advisors need to discuss plans. Oh, you're feeling better, Sam!" The angel smiled, "You can help me take these blankets to the demons on the plain."

"My son is not helping an Angel." Snarled Hastur.

"How about you and I go and discuss it further?" Sandalphon replied, shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, "Sam, please help Uriel."

Hastur leapt upon Sandalphon with a snarl as Uriel turned the boy away from the scene, "You don't need to see any of this."

"But what if- what if they get hurt-?"

"That's their own lookout. Not for your eyes." She sighed, "I believe humans would call the pair of them depraved."

"Depraved?"

"Violence hungry. Like a pair of tigers. How do you think you came to be?"

"What?!" the boy stared at her, horrified, "No! I don't want a brother or sister, I want to get to know my dad not share him!"

Uriel snorted, "Well I'm not letting you go back now. Eyes forward little one, we're going to do our duty and let them get on with theirs."


	17. Chapter 17

"Luzzien." Beelzebub called. The boy glanced up from where Michael had been showing him a miraculous model of the heaven of old times.

"Bee!" He jumped up to hold the Prince, "I missed you!"

"I wazz only gone a few hourzz."

"Michael was showing me things-"

"Yezz, well. You muzzt understand I do not think all the denzienzz of hell will be happy to zee heaven reproduced. Thizz is zupposed to be a new zzztart."

"Of course." Michael managed, "I was merely pointing out the divine inspiration. Please show him the infernal."

"Bee?" The boy asked suddenly. The Prince looked down at him. The boy's expression had changed. His face scrunched up, "I-I still don't understand. Why is my - Why is Gabriel so horrible?"

"He izz a fool." Beelzebub replied, "He izz too proud and too afraid to acczept change is inevitable."

"Does he... not love me?"

Beelzebub paused, "Zat izz not my quezztion to answer, Lu." they cleared his messy dark fringe from his eyes, "But I can tell you now, you do not require hizz approval to live your life." They clicked their fingers, a superheroes fleece blanket appearing in their hand. Lucien beamed, "My blanket."

"Yezz. You have had a long day, and muzt rezt. We will watch over you and zzpeak more when you wake."

The boy beamed. Michael watched the Prince of Hell seat themselves on the ground, Lucien curling up to use their leg as a pillow.

"You're going to let him sleep at a time like this?"

"He izz not yet fully grown." Beelzebub buzzed, "How many yearzz did they zzay at the meeting, before they were fully grown and could zzement their place in the univerzze?"

"25 Earth years." Michael replied, "And he is..?"

"11." The Prince of Hell replied, "We have a long way zztill to go. He muzzt be protected, and guided. Or all thizz will have been for nothing."

Night gently fell as Lucien's breathing shallowed.

*

The walk back home was just long enough. They had made sure of it. Crowley didn't want to ask Aziraphale what they were going to do about the exhausted little girl he held gently against his chest as he walked. He had a feeling he might not like the answer either way.

Eventually, with Tadfield appearing in the distance, lights twinkling in the twilight, Aziraphale set Jennet down on top of a stile. He took her shoulders, gazing eye to eye with her with a gentle smile.

"Jennet, dear..." He clicked his fingers. For once, it seemed to work.

"What are you doing?!" Crowley panicked. It seemed now was as good a time as any to ask, then!

The angel exhaled deeply before he turned to look at his husband, "She's not ours, Crowley. She was once, but she's not now. And it would be unfair to her and her parents for her to remember it - especially now it's going to hurt her. She's just a child, a child who's fought in a war - she shouldn't have to mourn her actions when they were born of trying to fix things."

"You can't take her memory, Angel. Children always question who they are - we can't take that from her. And if we deserved to know, so does she."

Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully, turning back to the girl. Her glassy-eyed stare was disconcerting, and he paused. Crowley held his breath.

"Jennet." The angel started, "Your father and I will always love you. We're so happy that we have had the chance to know you. But for your parents sake, for your sake, and to keep you safe and happy, you need to file all this away for now. You will know the truth, but you will keep it quiet. It was all just a game, that you were playing with your godfathers and with Lucien, until you need that information again."

Jennets eyes filled with tears, but her human form was happily under the angels spell.

"Is that alright, Crowley?" Aziraphale whispered.

"I suppose."

"When you wake up, my dear, dear girl, you'll be tired, and we'll take you home to your parents. You'll fall asleep. When you wake from your dreams, it will make sense and your mother and father and sister will be there with you. You can have your childhood back-" The Angel's voice faltered as a tear traced his cheek, "-You can be happy. Never forget, my dear child..."

He snapped his fingers. Jennet yawned, spilling tears down her face, "I'm sleepy..."

He picked her up, "You've had a hard day, Jennet. Lots of play time. Lets get you home."

Crowley gazed at him in silence for a long time as they walked back to Tadfield.

"You hurt so much for losing her you practically fell. But you're giving her back without a thought."

"You wouldn't give her back to parents who raised and love her?"

"We helped. We love her. And we would have raised her had we had a choice!"

"Dear. We have had 11 years to mourn her. And she isn't our child, not really, not anymore."

Crowley hissed in irritation, but sighed a few moments later, "Suppose you're right... Plus I wouldn't want to deal with Dangerous Device if you didn't take her back."

Aziraphale paused just outside the village, hefting Jennet up a little, hugging her close, "Crowley dear. Would you like a turn?"

Crowley gazed at him, a little afraid that if he held the girl now he wouldn't want to let her go. Not that he had ever wanted to let her go, from the start. Aziraphale's eyes begged him though.

_Please. It might be the last chance you get to be her father..._

"Go on then."

Aziraphale bundled her over gently. Crowley nuzzled his head against hers, "We had another daughter, Angel. A beautiful, intelligent, amazing daughter." he murmured, "The finest heart in existence."

"Melpomene."

"Excuse me?!"

Aziraphale stroked the buttons of his waistcoat gently, "The Greek muse of tragedy."

"I see." Crowley held the girl close, pondering what could have been, "Jennet, you... poor girl." He laid his forehead to hers, humming gently.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale said suddenly, fidgeting, "Would you... mind if we tried again? I think I'm... ready."

Crowley froze for a few seconds before opening his eyes. His pupils were blown. Aziraphale took a step back, "Dear, I-"

"After everything we've been through today-" Crowley hissed, "Isss this the best time to assssk?!"

"Well I wasn't going to suggest we put her in the ditch and have intercourse in the road, Crowley." Aziraphale replied, "We have time to prepare."

"What if I'm not ready?!" The demon snapped, "After what happened to our beautiful little girl?!"

"I-I'm sorry Crowley." The angel replied, a little crestfallen but understanding, "I... Suppose I wasn't thinking. I just held her and I remembered Spark and I... Felt the need."

Crowley stared at him in the dimming light, "Now who'sss going too fassst, Angel?"

"We got held up by God and Lucifer as an example." Aziraphale replied, "Oh come on Crowley, we aren't falling, not anymore, we're soaring." He stepped forwards again, wrapping his arms around them both, "I know. I know this is all today. Bringing it all back. I just feel. We've been through so much, Crowley dear... I want our good times back again."

"Angel... we don't need a baby to have the good times back." The demon's breath hitched; tears were welling in his eyes and he knew it, but holding Jennet left no hands to brush them away. Aziraphale waited for them to trace his face before kissing them gently, "I know, Crowley. I didn't mean that. And I will wait for you. After all, you've waited for me, all this time." He squeezed his husbands hips against him gently, then moved past him, taking the road to Jasmine cottage.


	18. Chapter 18

"How was that for a shock, my beautiful girl?" Crowley whispered to the sleeping child, still standing in the road where his husband had left him, "But I'm... I'm not ready. Not anymore. Not now I know who you are. Little Spark."

The moon was rising. He kissed the child's forehead, "Sleep well. Dream of crafting, my little starmaker."

Then he frowned, "Angel? Angel, wait a minute."

Aziraphale turned back to him.

"Are you... able to trigger it still?"

"Hm?"

"Given your powers..."

Aziraphale paused a moment. To Crowley's eyes his aura burst into flame, blue and grey with flashes of white. Then Aziraphale nodded, "Yes. I can do it." He gazed at his husband, "I... think I remembered something. About the ineffable plan. Which gave me a little boost."

"There's a word I thought you'd never speak again."

Aziraphale shrugged, "I told you once that the Lord couldn't make everything sunshine and buttercups. That sooner or later, everybody is tested." The angel paused, "I forgot, for a long time. I felt forsaken, unloved, punished before I could even doubt her." He closed his eyes, "I should have known better. Just because she saw our paths, doesn't mean she's responsible for them."

The demon met his eyes, "And... you?"

"It... wasn't my fault Spark died."

A weight lifted from Crowley's chest and he stepped to hold the Angel at his side.

 _Finally_.

"My fault was internalising and throwing myself away. I couldn't reach out; I was so angry, so hurt."

"I think I understand." Crowley murmured into his hair.

"Hm?"

"An angel will cry with pain great as a fallen." Crowley replied, "The prophecy. And you - and Jennet - helped reduce the war to virtually nothing by virtue of your 'falling' and her death. This could have been terrible. This could have been one of those 'rend the heavens and overspill to Earth' jobs. You two, and your influences - On Lucien, on Beez, on Michael - made peace finally possible again."

"Will it last though?" Aziraphale said, "I don't think they will all go down without a fight. And Lucien is so young."

"That's a problem for another day, Angel." Crowley replied, "Come on. It's cold, and this little Angel has a home to be returned to."

*

Anathema and Newt answered the door quickly when Aziraphale knocked, "Special delivery. Sorry we're so late."

Newt rushed to take Jennet from Crowley.

"Is she okay?" Anathema asked, stroking the girls hair gently.

"She'll be just tickety-boo in the morning. Just snoozing." Aziraphale assured her. Newt was swaying gently as he held her close, "I'll put her to bed. Marie will be so happy - She went up hours ago but I'm sure she's still awake."

Crowley clocked the pair of eyes, the little face peering around the corner of the stair rail, and nodded, "I'm sure she is."

Anathema invited them in, "Thank you so much. Are you both alright?"

"It has been... taxing." Aziraphale replied.

Crowley blinked, "Taxing, Angel?"

Anathema tried to soothe them, "Did you... find anything more out about her - about why she's here?"

"About Jennet, what about my husband!?" Crowley managed, "Never in a million years did I ever expect that!"

Anathema turned at gaze at Aziraphale. He put his hands behind his back, "I didn't realise, Crowley. But I am sorry. I should have... asked you to look. Or looked myself."

He settled in a chair, exhausted. Crowley sank into the space next to him, pushing his glasses up and putting his hands over his eyes. Aziraphale reached to pat his shoulder, "Dear..."

"And then you just spring that on me on the way back!"

"It was just a thought! I explained, I'm sorry!"

"Hey, would you two cut it out?" Anathema snapped, "You'll wake her. We've been worried sick about her and you two are bickering as per usual!"

"Long day." Crowley hissed, making sure the witch saw his snake tongue flick irritably, "We should be getting back."

"What? Oh, yes." Aziraphale agreed.

"You've only just sat down-?"

"Ana. I. Can't. Not right now. And he's worse." Crowley replied, "We'll talk. Later. Right now I need to ssssleep."

"I'll get us home." Aziraphale reassured the woman, "We'll call tomorrow."

*

Crowley woke in a heap on the sofa, a bundle of arms and legs that weren't all his. He struggled to remember the day before. He felt like he had a massive hangover, but he knew he didn't. Everything ached. He remembered passing out on the hall floor with Aziraphale as soon as they'd shut the door. The same angel who was huddled to him now snoring lightly, and the same angel who must have dragged him to the sofa when he fell asleep on the floor last night, holding his husband and shaking with the effort of processing all that had happened.

He opened his eyes. The light was harsh. He turned his head; Aziraphale was huddled behind him, and distantly he thought he saw the shadow of those frozen wings on the spare book cases behind the sofa.

"Angel." He murmured. Aziraphale's brow creased but he was exhausted - who wouldn't be after unleashing the Eldrich abomination which was his new true form. A form he suspected the angel to have held back since they lost Jennet.

Jennet. He chewed his fingers idly. That little girl was the same soul they had lost 12 years previously. She was the reason for their pain.

And yet his silly, soft angel thought only of her when they handed her back to her 'parents'.

Something demonic reared its ugly head in Crowley's heart.

"My daughter. Our daughter. Who was taken from us - who my angel suffered so much for - who we all suffered for." He stared at the ceiling with a glare that may as well have shot laser beams, "I hate you, you used us. You claimed to love us but you don't understand that love doesn't work without respect for our lives. You didn't entrust him with any details, didn't make it easier for him. Now he thinks he's a monster and you're never going to fix that. You've broken him and left me to put him back together. I will never forgive you."

"I never asked your forgiveness, Crowley." came the warm, feminine voice in his head.

"Fuck you." He replied, squeezing Aziraphale a little too tight.

"She had a plan, love." he murmured suddenly.

"Doesn't excuse her." He growled, "Our daughter-"

"Is safe." Aziraphale managed.

"And your Wings are still-"

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't have to be-"

"Crowley..." Aziraphale kissed his cheek gently, "I didn't say I forgave her, either."

"Angel." Crowley murmured, "You really don't mind being the beast of Tadfield?"

"Of course I mind." The angel tutted, "But forgiveness can't be forced, Dear - It has to be naturally acquired and given."

They fell silent. At length Crowley dug his phone from his pocket, unwilling to move while his warm angel was content to doze on his shoulder, but wanting entertainment now he was awake.

"Shit." He managed suddenly.

"What?"

"Lex. He's been messaging me while we were gone."

"Oh? Dear boy, how is he, did he feel anything?"

"Nope, he's just rattling about the show his collage is doing..."

"Oh?"

"Angel it's Jesus Christ superstar."

"Really?" Aziraphale beamed, "What fun. Who is he playing?"

Crowley turned his head slowly, met his husbands expectant eyes and sighed, "Iscariot. Our fucking son is playing Judas fucking Iscariot."

Aziraphale's eyes were wide, but not entirely worried. Crowley was already onto the next message, "And Hellspawn's proposed... nothing like the shock of the call to war to get illegitimate doings legitimised I suppose."

"Oh!" Aziraphale cried brightly, fully awake now, "Oh my, weddings, plays.. Its almost busier than the celestial battlefield!"

"Only with better tea?" Crowley suggested.

"My dear Crowley, I thought you'd never ask." Chuckled the angel.

"Bastard." Crowley snorted, and kissed his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're getting it early because my brain is fried. 
> 
> That's the end of this story arc. I have another long one to come but it's being beta'd at present, and I'll probably go back down to twice a week when I start that one because I'm not moving very fast with the fic after that which is probably going to be the end of the main story. 
> 
> I'm going to take a weeks break I think. I do have a small thing lined up which I wrote to make sure I got the details of what happened right when I wrote Drift away. So that's... traumatic. Anyway. Might try and post that Sunday and then have a week off before Firework starts. 
> 
> Thanks for cheering me on these last few months. It's been really hard in the health service to keep my brain working, on top of the government being ass, he breakdown, just everything really. 
> 
> I appreciate every comment <3

**Author's Note:**

> The twins date of birth is next Saturday! (20th June 2020)   
> What shall I do to celebrate? Any ideas please let me know :)


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